


Take the Devil in Me

by Adastreia (NearDeathMetalJen)



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, M/M, No Smut, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-05-29 00:36:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 30,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15061211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NearDeathMetalJen/pseuds/Adastreia
Summary: Two former false Dragons: rivals, allies, friends, lovers - enemies. Logain Ablar, newfound champion of the Light, refuses to give up on Taim - his dark mirror, the person he might have become, had the Forsaken approached him instead. Will Logain be able to save the man he’s grown to love? Or will he too spiral into Shadow? [I'LL POST CHAPTER 20 SOON!]





	1. See Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought that Logain/Taim (either romantic/sexual or platonic) had epic storytelling potential, and I was disappointed that the Wheel of Time series never really explored the genesis and development of their relationship. This is just my take on what could have (should have!) been. Spoilers, eventual canon divergence, so on....

“M’Hael - ”

“If I might speak with you a moment, M’Hael!”

The corridor was suddenly seething with a repulsive mass of the Black Tower’s Soldiers and Dedicated, all of whom seemed to need to speak with him urgently. Mazrim Taim strode past in a rage, and the murderous look in his dark, slanted eyes sent them scattering. One new recruit, however, was not to be deterred. The boy was barely old enough to be away from his mother’s tit, Taim thought sourly. The fool trotted at Taim’s heels, seemingly oblivious of his leader’s black temper. 

“M’Hael?” the idiot said. He frowned suddenly. “Or is it Lord M’Hael? Me mam always told me I should be respectful of the rich and titled folk.” His eyes widened. “Not that you don’t deserve respect if you ain’t a lord, Lord M’Hael. I just mean - ”

With a sharp flick of Taim’s hand, the gangly boy was propelled aside with enough force to knock him on his fool behind. The look on the youth’s face was almost comical in its shock.

Taim rounded the corner into his study, then slammed the door shut with the One Power. As always, the rush of _saidin_ infused him with exhilaration in spite of its taint. As he let it go, he experienced a momentary sense of loss. When he held _saidin_ , he felt almost alive.

Taim heaved an irritable sigh. This was all al’Thor’s fault. That _child_ , the Dragon Reborn! It never failed to vex him that the provincial shepherd boy had turned out to be the mighty Dragon of legend. Taim had once declared himself the Dragon Reborn. He’d made the whole of his native Saldaea sit up and come to heel. What had this _child_ done other than strut about with his so-called Aiel and a fancy coat? And now, bloody al’Thor wanted him - him! - to obey orders without question. Rand al’Thor had more in the way of raw Power, he had to admit, but Taim was by far the more experienced channeler. The cannier, the more ambitious. Well, the boy would learn some respect in the end. Taim had plans for him.

Plans that would be easier to effect if Rand al’Thor had not turned Taim’s loyal Asha’man away!

In a sudden, gnashing fury, he lashed out with the Power. The Dragon’s crest tore from the wall and shattered in a hundred shards all over the carpet. Breathing hard, Taim scowled at the mess. He’d make one of the Soldiers clean it up later.

At that moment, the heavy oak door burst open. “M’Hael!” two Dedicated gasped as one. They quickly scanned the room for threats to their leader and found none. Their expressions turned puzzled. Then they noticed the broken crest. 

The older of the two shifted awkwardly. “We, ah, thought you were being attacked, M’Hael,” he mumbled. Taim’s blistering gaze nearly staked him to the wall. “We’ll leave now,” the young man added hastily. “I am truly sorry for disturbing - ”

“Get out!” Taim shouted.

They ran.

Taim paced back and forth, stewing. 

Suddenly, a voice arose from the darkness. “Are your fledgling channelers becoming too much for you to handle?” The tone was cold, mocking. Taim went rigid. _Demandred_.

A man emerged from the shadows. Demandred wore rich, dark blue velvet, with a high lace collar in the Andoran style. He looked elegant. Distinguished. Taim supposed the other man might have been called handsome, had his angular features been less set, his eyes a little less cold. But then, he’d heard the same thing spoken of himself. 

“I have everything under control,” Taim snapped, feeling hostile at Demandred’s mockery, then belatedly moderated his tone. One did not lightly insult one of the Great Lord’s Chosen. “I assure you, everything will work out according to plan.”

Demandred merely arched an eyebrow, and the sarcasm was clear. “The Great Lord wants to be sure of your...dedication to his cause. Soon, he will ask for proof of your allegiance. I suggest that you consider carefully your position amongst us. It is tenuous, _Mazrim._ Very tenuous.” He cast a disparaging look about the room. “You Third Age-ers are so uncivilized. So weak.”

Taim nearly shook with rage at the insult. But he quickly mastered himself, and his expression when he looked back at Demandred was one of supreme calm.

At that moment, an ear-shattering yelp split the silence. Grimacing slightly, Taim turned to stare out the window. Whatever the ruckus was, it enraged him; more so because the Great Lord’s Chosen was there to witness it.

“You had best take control of your novice army,” Demandred said archly to Taim. His look of affected disinterest made Taim want to throttle him. “If you can.” Then, with a sudden surge of _saidin_ , he created a gateway and disappeared.

Taim cursed. Then, taking a deep, steadying breath, he turned and strode to the door. 

The moment his hand grasped the knob, the door suddenly swung open. Blood and bloody ashes! Did he have to ward the blasted thing?

“M’Hael!” Coteren wheezed, clutching a stitch in his side. Of course it was Coteren. The fat idiot looked like he’d run a mile, for all his panting theatrics. Taim scowled dangerously at the man; his meeting with Demandred had shaken him more than he cared to admit, and he wanted to take it out on someone. “M’Hael, I know you said you didn’t want to be disturbed, but…sir, there is a man outside. He...he claims to be Logain Ablar, M’Hael.”

Coteren was shifting back and forth awkwardly, looking for all the world as though he would rather be anywhere else. Sweat beaded his forehead. Belatedly, he saluted, fist over heart. “M’Hael...what should - should we let him in, M’Hael?”

 _Should we, indeed?_ Frowning thoughtfully, Taim said, “Logain Ablar was caught and gentled by Aes Sedai.” The same fate that would have befallen him, had he not been rescued and converted to the Dark by Demandred. But he tried not to think about that; being in one of the Chosen’s debt was not something he relished. “A man who can no longer channel is useless to me.” But he was curious, he had to admit. Logain, like himself, had once claimed to be the Dragon Reborn, and gained considerable notoriety as a result - before he was taken and gentled, of course. Taim grimaced in distaste. Supposedly, the man had been strong in the One Power once. Very strong. What reason could he have for being here?

“Escort him in,” Taim said at last. “But ready your shield. Just in case.”

The man darted a glance at him, then scampered down the hall as fast as his chubby legs would carry him. Taim settled himself behind his desk, and when the knock came, he looked as though he’d been sitting there all day. 

“M’Hael, Lord Ablar is here,” Coteren announced.

 _Lord_ Ablar? Taim scowled slightly. Where in the Pit of Doom had _that_ come from? But he had no more time to ponder the Asha'man’s choice of words, for at that moment, a very tall, very imposing figure of a man strode in, acting for all the world like he owned the place. Taim stood, seizing _saidin_ instinctively - the other man was actually _taller!_ \- and the broad-shouldered fellow smiled slightly; it was a very knowing, arrogant smile. Suddenly, Taim felt a torrent of Power pervade the room. The man could channel.

Their eyes met and locked; though neither man’s expression so much as flickered, the situation had escalated into an all-out battle. Wielding _saidin_ like a cudgel, Taim pushed. The man who called himself Logain narrowed his eyes slightly and pushed back. Coteren stumbled against the far wall, whimpering in terror, but neither man paid him any notice.

 _Light, he’s strong! This_ must _be Logain,_ Taim thought, stunned. He quickly found himself straining - actually straining! - to maintain his grip on _saidin_. At least the other man had begun to sweat with the exertion; it was all that saved Taim’s dignity from being damaged irreparably.

Then, as one, the two channelers sagged and released the Power. It took all of Taim’s strength not to collapse back against his desk; the taller man was breathing hard, a startled look on his craggy face. For a long, pregnant moment, the two just stared at each other.

“ _Eep_ ,” Coteren chose that moment to squeak.

Both Taim and Logain turned to stare at him; he was white-faced and trembling. Logain’s eyebrows rose with more than a hint of mockery. He looked at Taim as if to say, _this_ is a soldier in your vaunted army? Taim grimaced. “Leave,” he snapped at Coteren. The fool all but tripped over himself in his mad dash to escape.

As soon as the door had swung shut behind Coteren, Taim smoothly settled himself in his chair, his movements as graceful as if he wasn’t near collapse. Over long, steepled fingers, he studied Logain in silence. Impatience colored the other man’s features; he hadn’t been invited to sit, and he was clearly unaccustomed to such treatment. Taim smiled thinly. 

“So you are Logain Ablar,” he said at last. “Why have you come? Last I heard, you were gentled and on the verge of self-harm in the White Tower.” Taim gave a mocking half-smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

Logain’s expression darkened, and he seemed on the brink of violence. “I was Healed,” he said abruptly, and the set of his jaw told Taim he’d say nothing more on the subject. No matter; Taim would discover the truth eventually. “I heard about the _Lord Dragon’s_ ,” and here his voice deepened with thinly veiled resentment, “ _gracious_ amnesty to all male channelers. When I learned that _you_ were here, I assumed it was safe for me as well.”

“‘Safe’ is a relative term,” Taim said idly. Logain’s eyes narrowed, and Taim became uncomfortably aware of exactly how large the other man was. Refusing to allow himself to be intimidated, Taim went on in a calm voice, “But yes. At present, the Black Tower is the best place for men like us.”

A strange emotion flickered across Logain’s rugged features. He appeared almost...wistful. “The only place for us, it seems,” he said quietly. For a moment, their eyes met in perfect understanding. Men who could channel lived short, hard, lonely lives. It was one of the reasons Taim had decided to seek power rather than other, simpler comforts.

“What a life this is,” Taim said with a short, mirthless laugh. His lips quirked in a wry half-smile. “You can stay,” he added casually, and Logain’s eyebrows shot skyward. 

“I wasn’t aware that I required your permission,” the man snapped, and their brief moment of communion passed. “I was under the impression that the Lord Dragon controlled the Tower.”

There was a long, dangerous silence. Then Taim barked, “MISHRAILE!” 

Immediately, the door swung wide and a handsome youth strode in, saluting sharply. He didn’t even glance at Logain. “Yes, M’Hael. What do you require, M’Hael?” 

Taim regarded Mishraile with a good deal of satisfaction, and the young man all but glowed with pleasure under the M’Hael’s rare approbation. Atal Mishraile could be a vexatious fop at times, but at least he showed proper deference. It was why Taim had called for Mishraile rather than Kisman or one of the others; that, and the fact that Mishraile would be sure to hear him. For whatever reason, he'd taken to patrolling the hallway whenever Taim was in his study.

“Get Ablar settled in the dormitory with the other Soldiers,” he told Mishraile in his most commanding voice. He cast a sharp glance at Logain, who merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “If he does well tomorrow, I may raise him to the rank of Dedicated.”

At that, Logain bristled. “Raise me to - I’m likely stronger than all of your Asha’man combined!” he ground out. 

Mishraile gave a sudden, sharp intake of breath at the man's blatant disrespect. Taim went on as if Logain hadn't spoken. “And put him on kitchen duty.” He waved a careless hand. “You're dismissed.”

Mishraile began to usher a fuming Logain out. 

“Ablar!” Taim barked. The man turned slowly. “I am the M’Hael here. Whilst you remain at the Black Tower, you will treat me with proper respect. Have I made myself clear?”

Logain stared down his nose at Taim for a moment, and there was a dangerous glint in his dark brown eyes. “Perfectly,” he growled at last. “ _M’Hael_.” With that, he pivoted and followed an anxious, wide-eyed Mishraile out of the room.

Taim waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps. 

When at last he retired for the night, there was another shattered item in his study for his Soldiers to clean up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE (11/13/2018): Okay, so I hadn't realized until I went back and re-read Tedronai's Black Tower story how similar my opening scene was to his. It was unintentional, of course; certain events (and characters' reactions to said events) really couldn't be excluded. Regardless, I'd like to credit Tedronai for his considerable contributions to the Logain and Mazrim fandom. I highly recommend all of his works! 
> 
> That said: although my story and his share several similar events in chapters one and two, TtDiM is a _very_ different tale. Although Tedronai has written some beautiful Logrim, his in-progress Black Tower work is not in any way shippy; it also follows canon a lot more closely (mine diverges drastically, beginning in chapter five). Just wanted to add this note, because I honestly hadn't intended for there to be similarities!


	2. Veins of Glass

Logain Ablar did not deign to make an appearance for Morning Directives; nor was he there for the recitation of the Creed of the Asha’man. Taim smoldered; he’d wanted to make a formidable demonstration of his leadership. Where in the Pit of Doom _was_ the man?

Taim was about to order a helpfully lingering Mishraile to go search when, suddenly, Ablar was there. He appeared decidedly rumpled, and his eyes were glazed over. He didn’t look lucid at all. Light, had he begun to go mad _already?_ Logain smothered a yawn, and Taim realized with some relief that the man had just woken up. He opened his mouth to say something sharp, then thought better of it.

“Ablar,” Taim said blandly instead. “As you’ve missed both Morning Directives _and_ the Creed,” and here he could not contain a small grimace, “we’ll get right into your first lesson: shielding.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake. If the other man decided to call him out, he’d have to admit he knew full well that Logain was _far_ beyond lessons in shielding. He did not want to test his strength against Logain’s again so soon - especially in front of his men. Casually, he added, “But given the state of things, perhaps it would be best to accelerate your training. MISHRAILE!”

“Yes, M’Hael!” the handsome blonde responded with a smart salute. He approached eagerly, and Taim grimaced. The young man showed definite promise, but he had a regrettable lack of social skills when it came to respecting others’ personal space. Mishraile edged closer until he stood about two inches from the M’Hael.

Taim forced himself not to recoil. “I’d like a good challenge to test Ablar here.” He jerked his head towards the bleary-eyed man. “Fetch...let me see. Fetch Gedwyn and Rochaid.”

Mishraile saluted again and hurried to carry out the M’Hael’s orders. He returned in a moment with Charl Gedwyn and Manel Rochaid, Taim’s first- and second-in-command.

“Gedwyn, Rochaid. Try to attack Ablar.” Taim shot a sharp look at Logain. “You. You may cast defensive weaves and _minor_ offensive weaves only. I want to see what you’re capable of, but I do _not_ want any incidents today.” He waited for Logain’s nod of assent, then muttered a quick command in the Old Tongue.

Rochaid approached Logain from the right; Gedwyn hung slightly back. Both drew _saidin._

Logain brushed aside their weaves with almost contemptuous ease. Taim’s men conducted themselves well - they did not shame him, at any rate - but beside Logain, their lesser Power and control were painfully apparent. Rochaid in particular kept landing on his arse; Taim would really need to speak with him about charging in too soon. Logain’s expression was focused, but he seemed to be concentrating more on not hurting Gedwyn and Rochaid than on actual offense; all his weaves were instinctive.

At last, Taim held up a hand. Gedwyn and Rochaid each took a step back, breathing heavily. “You can go see one of the others for Healing now,” Taim said. “Go.” They just barely managed to salute before staggering off. 

Taim turned to regard Logain. He had thrown hurdle after hurdle at the man, and somehow Logain Ablar had managed to exceed every single one of Taim’s expectations. He’d summon Logain to him later to receive his pins of rank; he’d earned his promotion. “You may go.” Taim watched him leave with a thoughtful expression on his face.

\----

Logain took his meal alone. None of the other Soldiers wanted to associate with him when his tension with Taim was so palpable. Most of the Asha’man ignored him, though a few regarded him with open mistrust. He’d almost downed his third wine goblet when the fat Asha’man - Coteren? - approached him nervously. 

“Lord - Lord Ablar,” he managed. “The M’Hael commands your presence in his study. Immediately.” Logain heaved a sigh and got up to follow the man. As they reached the hall, Coteren said, “You’ll - you’ll have to go the rest of the way on your own, Lord Ablar. The M’Hael has something urgent he needs me to do.” He looked uncertain, as though he’d possibly said too much. “Third door on the right.” Then he waddled away.

Logain watched him go pensively. There was something...strange about these men of Taim's. Nervous Coteren, infatuated Mishraile.... What was it about the M'Hael that evoked such strong emotions in his followers? Mazrim Taim was an enigma; one that Logain was determined to solve.

\----

When the man at last deigned to show his face, Taim had already finished his meal and gone back to perusing the enormous stack of letters on his desk. Methodically, he broke seal after seal, frowning at the contents of one letter and nodding in satisfaction at another.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up. 

“Apologies,” Logain said dryly. “Coteren was so scared, I was afraid he might piss his pants if left unattended. At least Mishraile wasn't on his hands and knees trying to peer under your door this time." He had, in fact, seen the poor besotted youth doing just that the previous evening.

Taim's head shot up. "He's - he's been _spying_ on me?" he sputtered. For a moment, abject alarm lit his features; Logain thought he saw the man's knuckles clench. Interesting.... Why did the thought of an over-curious lad seem to incite such panic in the normally composed man? What did he have to hide?

Abruptly, Taim's expression smoothed, settling into one of almost comical exasperation. Had Logain imagined that surge of agitation? At the moment, the other man just looked vexed - and perplexed. “Really. Atal Mishraile shows a lot of promise, a lot of initiative, but this is a bit much even for him. I’ll speak to him.” He spread his hands. “Of course, he was not pleased to be passed over for the rank of _Tsorovan’m’hael_. He's been rather insufferable since then; I do believe Gedwyn wants to strangle him.” Seeing Logain’s bewildered face, he added, “Storm Leader. In the Old Tongue.”

“Of course,” Logain replied dryly. With a raised eyebrow, he added, “I think Mishraile's after a bit more than the rank of Storm Leader."

Taim looked startled. “Are you saying he thinks to supplant me?” he asked uncomprehendingly. “He’s not that much a fool.” His grimace was decidedly unflattering; clearly the thought of M'Hael Mishraile did not impress him.

Logain almost laughed again. “No, I mean I think he desires a much...closer relationship with the M’Hael. I don't think he's been mooning about daydreaming about wearing dragon embroidery on his sleeves,” he added.

Taim’s dark eyes widened with astonishment, then dawning comprehension - and horror. So he _had_ noticed some things. This time Logain did laugh. “I - ” For once in his life, Taim had absolutely no idea how to respond. Then he scowled. “That fool boy," he muttered. "Ablar, if you’re trying to - ”

At that moment, the door burst open, and Peral Torval rushed in. Taim wasn’t sure whether to blast the man to bits or thank him for his timing. 

“What do you want, Torval?” he snapped.

“M’Hael, one of the Soldiers has gone mad,” the Asha’man gasped. He doubled over and clutched at his side. “He just killed one of the new recruits, and he’s destroyed the Soldiers’ dormitories.”

Taim closed his eyes for a moment. _Light, not again…._ Steeling himself, he met Logain’s grim gaze and jerked his head, indicating the man should follow him. 

\---

It was worse than Torval had said; it was a bloody massacre. Everyone had fled the room. Everyone still alive, that is. There were smears of what Logain could only imagine had once been human beings. He felt like he was going to sick up. He glanced back at Taim. The man’s face was hard, cold. It was the M’Hael looking back at him, not Mazrim Taim. “This situation has progressed far beyond wine,” he said softly.

Logain stared back at him. What in the Light was the man talking about? Creator help them all if Taim gone mad as well.

They found the taint-ridden adolescent huddled in the corner of the room, half-obscured by shadows. He was a wretched sight; he looked barely human, laughing and sobbing in turns, all the while clutching at his ears as if to claw them from his very skull. When he noticed Logain and Taim, he shook his head frantically. “They won’t stop,” he whispered. “They won’t stop. I hear them; they want it! They want what I have!” Taim took a step closer, and both men suddenly felt a surge of _saidin_ from the boy. Instinctively, Logain shielded. Beside him, a chair exploded in a fountain of splinters. 

“STAY BACK!” the young man screamed. He drew on more and more of the Power. Logain exchanged an alarmed glance with Taim. The boy was drawing too much; Light, he was going to burn himself out, or even kill himself, and likely take the entire building with him!

“I have no choice,” Taim said. His expression was chill, emotionless.

Before Logain could say a word, he felt an onslaught of _saidin_ so strong, it nearly choked him. Suddenly, the young man crumpled; Taim had snapped his neck with a weave. Logain stared in shock. Spittle dripped from the boy’s mouth; his eyes were frozen in an expression of absolute terror. Taim looked down at the body dispassionately, then snapped, “Torval!” 

Peral Torval had been hovering back at the threshold. He took a trembling step forward into the room. “Y-yes, M’Hael,” he managed.

“Get some of the Soldiers. Have them dispose of the bodies and get the place back in order,” Taim snapped. He barely waited for the man's miserable salute before he turned and strode from the room.

Logain stared after the M’Hael in stunned disbelief, then growing anger. Blood and _bloody_ ashes! A boy had gone mad, right in front of them, and taken other innocents with him. And Taim had just dispatched him as coldly as he ordered the men to chores! There’d been no choice, Logain knew. Creator help him, he’d have done the same. But to do it with absolutely no emotion! How far gone _was_ Taim? Gritting his teeth, he stormed after the man.

He found Taim in his study. The M'Hael was standing by the window, his back to Logain, an empty wineglass clutched in his hand. Logain was startled. Taim’s normally rigid back was slumped, and he appeared nothing like his usual indomitable self.

Taim turned to look at him then. His skin was leeched of all color. _Like bones bleached white in the sun,_ Logain thought, then shook his head to dispel the morbid image. Taim’s black orb-like eyes were wide and haunted, and weariness was etched into every plane of his face. 

“How are we to go on like this?” he asked tiredly. “This is the third we’ve lost in two weeks, Ablar.” His hands were shaking, Logain saw. Taim quickly slipped them into his pockets. 

Logain relaxed a little. So the M’Hael wasn’t impervious at all, it seemed. The coldness...it was only a mask. He was just like the rest of them, struggling to keep himself together in the face of all this destruction. Hesitantly, he put a hand on the other man’s arm and patted it awkwardly. Taim stared at Logain’s hand and arched an eyebrow, but he didn’t order Logain to remove it.

“Ablar,” he said suddenly. “How long have you been channeling?”

Surprised, Logain withdrew his hand. “Almost ten years?”

Taim nodded as if it was what he’d expected. “As have I.” For a moment, he just stared out the window at nothing. “We have fought the madness for a long time, you and I.” He turned to regard Logain then. “You and I are similar, in many ways,” he observed. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” He gave a small, mirthless laugh. “Ablar. If something should happen to me, in the days that come, I expect you to succeed me.” 

Logain stared. Taim had spoken of his death so casually, almost as though he didn’t care one way or the other. Was that just another front, or…?

“I’m not sure I like you, Ablar.” Taim’s lips quirked in a wry half-smile. “Is the world really large enough for two such as us?” He spread his hands mockingly. “ _But_ , you are the least incompetent of all these imbeciles I must associate with on a daily basis. I trust you will keep the Black Tower from falling into _complete_ disrepair, at least until Tarmon Gai’don.” He reached into his pocket and handed two pins to Logain. “Take these, Asha’man Ablar.” He paused for a moment. “Do not make me regret my trust in you, Logain,” he added softly, then turned back to his contemplation of the window.

Logain took that as a dismissal. It was only when he’d reached his room that he realized Taim had called him by his first name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the update delay; I wrote the entire story about two months ago, all EXCEPT for the second chapter. I always have trouble with chapter two for some reason (pacing issues - I get impatient), so I apologize if there's too much going on. Anyway, thanks for reading!
> 
> Comment moderation is in place only to prevent trolls (I've had weird experiences over on FF.Net); I will approve and reply to any comment that is not spam, including criticisms. Comments of any kind make my day! XD
> 
> [UPDATE: Thanks to my awesome readers' feedback, I'm re-writing a lot of my draft, so it might take a little longer than expected to post new chapters. I think the changes will be worth it, though!]


	3. My Demons

The following morning, Taim introduced Logain as the Dedicated's new instructor in the Power. Although no one uttered a word, it seemed to be the general consensus that perhaps their M’Hael had run as mad as poor dead Conor. Everyone had been aware of the tension between the two men since Logain’s arrival. In fact, the previous morning, bets had been placed as to when the duel would take place, and who would win. No one had wanted to risk betting against the M’Hael, of course, but several of them suspected that Logain’s strength was at least equal to Taim’s.

By noon, almost everyone believed that the M’Hael and Logain Ablar had embarked upon a torrid love affair. Logain regarded the whole situation with mild amusement. Certainly, their curiosity made his students very attentive to his lessons. He wondered if Taim had heard yet, and what the man thought.

He got his answer at the end of his late afternoon class. “Ablar!” Logain turned to see Taim standing in the shade of a large oak, watching him with a dark look on his face.

Logain glanced up. “Class dismissed,” he said. None of his new students dispersed; they were all watching the pair with undisguised curiosity. Taim was clearly in a blistering temper. Logain held back a small smile. He crossed over to the fuming man and grinned. “Mazrim,” he greeted, not troubling to keep his voice down.

Taim’s eyes blazed in sudden fury ‘til he looked like Ishamael himself. “A word,” he snapped, then turned on his heels and strode towards the stables.

Logain smirked and sauntered after the man.

“What is the meaning of this?” Taim demanded the moment they were alone. “These - these rumors,” he sputtered with none of his usual composure. “They’re - it’s not - ”

Logain raised an eyebrow; he was enjoying this. “A bit conservative for a Saldaean, aren’t you, Mazrim?” Taim looked on the verge of murder, and Logain held out his hands placatingly. “Taim,” he corrected, his mouth quirking up at one end. “Alas, it seems we are having our first lover’s quarrel.”

“We are _not_ \- ” Taim took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, it was with the utmost calm. “I am the M’Hael. As the leader of the Black Tower, I must be above reproach at all times. Scandalous rumors like the ones you’ve been spreading reflect badly on me, on you, and on the Tower. This is unacceptable, Ablar.”

“I am not the source of those rumors, Taim,” Logain said calmly. “It seems that Asha'man Coteren has not yet learned the value of discretion.” He winced at his gaffe; Taim would no doubt punish the man harshly now. “He let slip that you summoned me last night, and that I visited you after the...the incident.” His mouth twisted grimly. The only indication that Taim had heard was a slight flicker of his dark orb-like eyes. “Taim, they’ve been through a lot. If schoolyard rumors help them keep their minds off their impending madness, I don’t really see the harm.”

Taim stared up at the ceiling beams for several moments. At last he turned to look at Logain. “They have been through a lot,” he agreed quietly. “And because of that, they need to know that I’ve chosen you for your abilities, Logain, and not for...any other reason. I trust you understand.”

“I understand, Taim.” Logain met his eyes steadily. Then his lips twitched. “We should probably return to our posts before they begin to wonder what we’re doing alone in here.” He walked out of the stables, laughing, and closed the door on Taim’s astonished face.

\---

Taim’s mouth twitched in what amounted to a smile for him. The situation was so ludicrous, he couldn’t help but be amused. 

Mazrim Taim had never had a friend before; male channelers seldom did. Who would want to be friends with a man who was bound to go mad and decimate everything and every _one_ near him? He’d gotten used to emotional isolation, to the point where it didn’t bother him anymore. He had Power, and the ability to amass more. If the lack of a close personal confidante left a void, there was more than enough material gain to fill it. Especially now. 

This...alliance with Logain was perhaps the closest he’d ever come to real friendship. The man understood him in a way few others could. The isolation, the loneliness, the drive to become something more than just another tainted madman, the need to make a mark upon the world before his madness seared a hole in it. 

He still wasn’t sure he entirely liked Logain Ablar. The man had a way of raising his hackles sometimes. Taim would never admit it, but it still bothered him that the other man had had a more successful campaign as false Dragon. But he saw something of himself in Logain; the man was a light mirror to him. 

Logain...Logain was the man Taim might have been, had he never crossed paths with Demandred.

Taim wished he wouldn't have to let Logain down.

\---

When Taim emerged into the garish mid-day sunlight, he found the Tower in an uproar. 

“What's going on?” he snapped at Mishraile.

“It's the Lord Dragon, M'Hael,” the lad panted. “He's here, and he's not happy.”

Taim pressed two fingers to his temples. _Blood and bloody ashes! Not_ today _!_

He found al'Thor engaged in a ferocious staring contest with Logain. The two men were glaring murder at each other. Logain’s face was twisted with exasperation, but his ire seemed to fade somewhat as he noticed Taim crossing the lawn towards them. Al'Thor’s eyes remained stormy.

“My Lord Dragon,” Taim said, inclining his head ever-so-slightly. 

Rand’s eyes blazed at him. “I told you to keep me informed, Taim! You've barged in on me to tell me that one boy has the spark, you’ve disturbed my peace with the news that there are Aes Sedai daring to take their breakfast in an inn halfway across Caemlyn, but when _this_ man shows up!” He jerked his head in Logain’s direction. “Not a word! I hear you've put him in charge of your _students_ now?” He was shaking with anger. “I should have listened to Lews Therin when he told me to kill you!”

Taim raised a cool, mocking eyebrow at Rand. Though he said not a word, he managed to convey a sense of wry amusement.

“I am not mad yet, Taim,” Rand went on quietly, his black mood evaporating as suddenly as it had come. “Madness is nothing to make light of. I hear you had an...an incident last night. I placed my trust in you, Taim. I expected you to have a little more care for your students.”

Taim’s lips tightened ‘til they turned white. His eyes gave nothing away, but al'Thor's words had hit him like a clout in the head.

To his surprise, Logain rounded on Rand. “And I expected _you_ to understand that if you order Taim to push these men, then you're signing their early death warrants! While he's here training them every single day, you're off gallivanting about doing the Light knows what, and not giving a single thought to these men who're fighting _your_ battles! Except for when you can use us, of course,” he added bitterly. “You know, most of these men don't even know the person they're giving their lives for. But they believe in Taim.”

Taim looked at Logain in astonishment. Rand, on the other hand, formed a gateway without speaking and abruptly stormed towards it. “Just keep them together,” he snapped over his shoulder. Then, in a surge of _saidin_ , he and the gateway winked out.

Both men stared after him. Taim shook his head; Light, al'Thor truly _was_ far gone. Lews _Therin?_

“Taim,” Logain said, and lightly placed a hand on his arm. “You know he's wrong about - ”

Taim held up his hand. “I don't need your sympathy, Ablar, or your defense.”

Logain’s face darkened. “Fine,” he said roughly, and there was anger and a hint of something else in his voice. “I’ll leave you to your business, _M'Hael_.” He turned to go.

“Wait!” Taim said, grimacing. Logain paused. “Thank you,” he bit out at last. 

Logain studied him with an inscrutable expression on his craggy face. Then the corners of his lips turned up in a wry half-smile not unlike Taim's own. “I’ll see you at dinner, Taim.”

Taim watched until the man was out of sight, then went back inside. He had just finished warding his study - really, Mishraile was _spying_ on him? - when a familiar voice arose from the shadows. 

“Enjoying yourself, I trust?”

Taim nearly fell out of his chair, and just barely managed to remain upright, with his dignity intact. _Demandred_. And he wasn’t alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had to re-write a lot of this to pave the way for chapter four. (I'm also really OCD when it comes time to post anything; that's what accounts for most of the wait between chapters.)


	4. It's the Fear

Taim’s gaze flickered over Demandred for only a moment before settling on the figure standing beside him. The man was tall - taller than Logain, possibly as tall as al’Thor. He was handsome, with chiseled features and a strong jaw. But it was his eyes that snared Taim's notice. A startling shade of blue, they swirled with pitch-dark specks. Streams of black on cerulean traveled smoothly from one eye to the other. The effect was disconcerting, to say the least. He was garbed in black velvet with a rich blood-red brocade; it was the clothing of a wealthy Andoran merchant, but if this man was a mere merchant, then Taim was the Amyrlin Seat.

More to cover his sudden surge of fear than out of actual irritation, Taim snapped, "What is it _this_ time?" Immediately, he cursed himself for a fool, though his face betrayed none of his discomfort. Light, he had to get a hold of himself! There was no room for mistakes with Demandred. Demandred and...? His gaze flicked again to the stranger, then back.

"You ought to show some respect, Mazrim," Demandred said coldly, his measuring gaze never leaving Taim's face. His mouth twitched in what amounted to a smile for him when Taim grimaced at the name. "You stand in the presence of the Nae'blis." Taim looked back impassively, trying to appear as though he understood. Demandred wasn't fooled, of course. His face bore a slightly condescending cast when he went on, "Yes, the Last Battle approaches, and the rank of Nae'blis has been bestowed. The Nae'blis is the name for one who stands second only to the Great Lord."

Taim managed to look only mildly interested in the Chosen's words, but his heart was pounding. Demandred was showing himself to be more and more formidable by the moment. He would have Taim's respect...for now. He inclined his head, very slightly. "Nae'blis," he acknowledged.

Demandred's eyes narrowed. Taim forced himself not to seize _saidin_ ; the man's lips had tightened in a cast that Taim had learned - rather painfully - meant the Chosen was especially displeased. "Fool. Moridin is - "

"Enough." The other man held up a hand, and Demandred fell silent. This Moridin was leaning casually against the wall, looking bored and rather insolent. But his gaze was sharp. Taim felt a twinge of fear.

"I am Nae'blis," Moridin said softly. He looked Taim up and down as though he were a mildly interesting puzzle. “How many of your men have sworn to the Great Lord?” he asked suddenly. His tone was casual, but Taim trusted that tone, and the man, as much as he’d trust a viper.

“About a dozen,” he answered cautiously.

Moridin’s face suddenly darkened, and the room with it. Taim took an involuntary step back. Black spots began to course across Moridin’s eyes. _Light_ , Taim thought. _This is it. This is the end. I hope Logain is ready...._

“No,” Moridin said to himself at last, and light returned to the room. Taim let out a breath of relief. Moridin's black mood seemed to have passed, as quickly as it had come; he'd gone back to looking only mildly speculative. “The Great Lord needs more. Tarmon Gai’don approaches, Taim. It will come, sooner than you know. And then this, all of this...” He gestured grandly around the room. “...all of this will end.” He laughed suddenly, and Taim felt a chill race down his spine. Light, the man was mad! Demandred was staring at Moridin with a coldly assessing look on his face. When he noticed Taim watching him, his face settled into its usual inscrutable mask. 

“You will bring more Dreadlords to the Great Lord’s cause,” Moridin announced at last. His eyes seemed to measure Taim. “What of this newcomer, this Logain?” 

Taim tensed. So Moridin had spies at the Black Tower. Demandred probably had his own, as well. The man certainly didn’t look surprised by Moridin’s question, though he did glance at him rather sharply. “What about him?” he asked carefully.

Moridin raised an eyebrow. “Have you made any attempts to turn him to the Shadow?” he asked. Seemingly idly, he reached out and traced the map on Taim's desk. There was something in his voice, something that made Taim's hackles rise.

“Logain Ablar is strong in the Power,” Demandred said calmly. “Stronger than _you_ , Taim, though less...schooled in using it. He would be a valuable asset to the Great Lord’s cause. I had intended to convert him, as I did you, but I was...occupied elsewhere.” He darted a quick glance at Moridin. Taim kept his expression neutral, but he observed their interplay with interest. There was an undercurrent to their exchanges; something more complex than even _Daes Dae'mar_ was being played.

“You will bring him to our side,” the Nae'blis declared. “Logain Ablar will serve the Shadow, in the end.” Taim shivered at the utter conviction in the man’s voice. He wasn't threatening, he wasn’t boasting - he was merely stating an inevitability. Moridin's gaze sharpened suddenly. “You have some objection?” 

Taim didn't blink. “Not at all,” he said levelly. “Although, it will take some time. To gain Logain’s trust. The man has been used badly by the Aes Sedai; as such, he is a very suspicious man.”

Moridin smiled, and a ball of flame appeared in his hand. It flared hot for a moment, then vanished without a trace. Taim stared. He had not felt _saidin_ being wielded at all! He saw that Demandred too looked disturbed. 

“I trust that you will find a way to expedite the process,” Moridin said, at once looking rather bored. “ _The Great Lord_ trusts that you will.” With that, the air suddenly _warped_ , and Moridin vanished.

Taim stared at the spot where the Nae'blis had been, shaken to his core.

Demandred was watching him coolly. “The True Power,” he stated. “He Traveled with the Great Lord’s essence.” His lips twisted upwards slightly at the thunderstruck look on Taim’s face. Then his eyes narrowed. “You are closer to Logain than you let Moridin believe, Mazrim, are you not?” Taim tensed, and Demandred gave a small nod of satisfaction. “Get closer still. Do whatever you have to do, Mazrim, but get him on our side.” He studied Taim for several moments before continuing, "From now on, you will answer only to me. You can stall with Moridin all you want, but you are under my orders now. I brought you to the Shadow; _I_ command you, Mazrim, and you would do well to remember that.” He leaned in close for a moment, and his voice was hard. “I alone know the secret to your undoing.” With that, he gave a cold half-smile and, in a surge of _saidin_ , disappeared through a gateway.

Taim sank down into his chair, trembling all over. 

What in the Pit of Doom had he gotten himself into?

\---

Taim was absent at dinner that night. Logain asked after him, eliciting looks of amusement from the others; Mishraile tossed him several ill-concealed glares. As the evening wore on, he noticed that some of the men were missing as well. Gedwyn, Rochaid, Torval, Kisman - all full Asha’man. Where in the Light...? None of the Soldiers and Dedicated knew for sure, though one young Arafellin mentioned Taim’s private classes. Logain raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Private classes, indeed.

Something was going on with Taim; Logain just didn’t know what. But whatever it was, he would find out. Light, he wished the man would just confide in him!

\---

Demandred strode from the gateway out into the night, considering. Taim was, in some ways, an exceptional asset to the Shadow - as much as anyone from this barbaric Age could be, anyway. He showed a good deal of promise. He was ambitious, cunning, _ruthless_. And there was rage in him, a great deal of it. Impeccably suppressed, most of the time. But it was there. Oh, yes, it was there. 

Logain worried him, however. Though he'd kept the fact from Moridin and the other Chosen, he had made a real attempt to entice Logain to the Shadow, in the days before Taim had ever proclaimed himself. Not long after his escape from the Bore, Demandred had visited Logain under several different guises. The man was strong, and had a good deal of darkness in him; he'd have been a valuable servant of the Shadow. But there was also...good. He'd displayed at times a gallant streak, a gentleness of sorts. A _weakness._ And Demandred could not abide weakness. In the end, he'd decided to let the man live. At the very least, a false Dragon who could channel would help to sow chaos, to distract from what he and the other Chosen were plotting. Had he made a mistake...?

No, he decided. It had been a gamble, possibly a great one; but he was a gambler by nature. His boldness was one of only many attributes that had made him a superior general to Lews Therin. Demandred _would_ best him, in the end.

As for Taim...the man's apparent fondness for Logain had lowered Demandred's estimation of him a bit, but no matter. Taim was just another pawn; in the end, he would move where directed. One way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's quite a bit of canon divergence here, I realize. I know Demandred and Moridin were acting independently of one another at this point in the series, at least in regards to the Black Tower; but for reasons that'll become clear later on, I needed them to at least be somewhat aware of the other's involvement. The opening scene was originally supposed to take place "off-screen," but my readers wanted more Demandred, so. XD Next chapter is when all hell will break loose.


	5. Familiar Taste of Poison

Taim was avoiding Logain.

The man had made several very obvious attempts to corral him aside, but Taim wasn't ready to face him yet. He regretted the frustration he was causing Logain, but it couldn't be helped. He needed time to think. He needed....

At last, he summoned Mishraile to him and ordered him to keep Logain out of the way for a while. Mishraile's eyes lit up at the command, and he promptly assigned Logain the unflattering chore of mucking out stalls. The look Logain shot Taim then made it clear he knew exactly who was really responsible for this assignment. But he turned on his heels and all but stomped off in the direction of the stables. Taim watched him go with regret, then departed in the opposite direction.

For a long time, he paced the perimeters of the Tower grounds, eventually wandering off into a secluded wooded area. It took him several moments to realize that someone had followed him into the forest. Instinctively, he reached for _saidin_ and turned to confront...Mishraile.

_Blood and ashes...._

"Asha'man Mishraile," Taim said, releasing the Source with a resigned sigh. "What do you want?"

The golden-haired young man, normally so self-assured to the point of outlandish vanity, appeared hesitant. He ducked his head a little, then raised his eyes to Taim's. "I - I wanted to make sure you were all right, M'Hael," he said at last, face open and concerned. "You seemed perturbed, earlier." 

Taim ignored the lad's implied question. "Mishraile," he said suddenly. "I have your loyalty, do I not?"

Mishraile's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, M'Hael," he replied at once. There was a certain wistful earnestness to his voice. Burn it all, Logain had definitely been right about the lad. Taim closed his eyes for a moment. This really was the last thing he needed to deal with right now. "Whatever comes, I'm your man."

"Why are you so loyal, Mishraile?" Taim asked softly. "It is not for want of power, as it is for the others. Is it, Mishraile?"

Mishraile appeared to wrestle with himself. Suddenly, he burst out, "No, M'Hael. I am loyal to you because - because I care." His face reddened, but he stared back at Taim almost defiantly.

"Mishraile," Taim said, not unkindly. "Tarmon Gai'don is approaching. I - _we_ \- are the last line of defense. There is no time for me to spend thinking about anything, or any _one_ , else right now. You should not, either."

"But I suppose you can spend time with Logain Ablar," Mishraile said bitterly. Seeing Taim's shocked expression, he quickly apologized. "Forgive me, M'Hael. That was out of line. But...well, you have my loyalty, regardless."

Taim looked at the man, about to respond impatiently, then thought better of it. No, better to have at least one follower whose devotion he wouldn't need to question. "And I value your loyalty, Mishraile," he said softly. "In the coming days, I'll need it. But - "

Suddenly, Mishraile launched himself at Taim.

Taim's eyes widened in shock. What in the Pit of Doom - ? Mishraile was...attacking him? The young man knocked him to the ground, and lay sprawled atop him for a moment. Had Mishraile gone _mad?_ He felt a strong rush of _saidin_ from the lad. Then, suddenly, shockingly, it simply cut off. Mishraile made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as he was yanked into the air by an invisible force. Light, the man had been trying to protect him!

A cloaked figure emerged into the clearing. She let her hood fall back, and Taim let out a hissed breath. _Aes Sedai._ Her ageless face examined Mishraile impassively, and then she turned to look down at Taim. He realized to his shock that he was shielded. He rose to his feet with all the dignity he could muster and stared back at her coldly, but he was shaking with rage. The woman was strong. Too strong.

He became aware of shouts in the distance, and loud resounding booms. The Aes Sedai glanced in the direction of the sounds and smiled; it was a very chilling smile, devoid of all warmth. "Your _male channelers_ ," she said, managing to imbue the words with a great deal of revulsion, "should all be caught and gentled by now."

Red-hot rage suffused Taim. Quaking with fury, he _wrenched_ at her shield, and suddenly, he was flooded with the warmth and the blight that was _saidin_. The woman's eyes widened in shock and sudden fear. She made a frantic gesture, but Taim was quicker. Wielding the Power like a blade, he slashed a weave at the Aes Sedai. Immediately, she crumpled, writhing on the grass in agony.

Mishraile tumbled to the ground as the weave holding him in place dissolved. He gasped, clutching at his side.

Taim spared no time for him. He regarded the shuddering Aes Sedai coldly. Using the Power, he _twisted_ , and the woman screamed. 

"Light, stop!" she wailed. Tears were streaming down her face in torrents.

Mishraile had gotten to his feet and moved to stand beside the M'Hael. His expression was uneasy; he glanced from the Aes Sedai to Taim uncertainly. "M'Hael," he began tentatively, "maybe you should - "

"Go to the Tower," Taim said, not taking his eyes from the Aes Sedai. "As fast as you can. Don't stop. Find Logain." His face hardened. "Kill any Aes Sedai who get in your way."

Mishraile blanched, but he nodded sharply and ran off.

"Now," Taim told the woman, "tell me - "

Suddenly, what felt like a blade of fire slashed across his ribs. Stunned, he collapsed to his knees. He looked down and his eyes widened in shock. His abdomen was bleeding profusely. He raised his gaze to his captive Aes Sedai, but she wasn't looking at him; she was looking _past_ him. Someone had managed to sneak up behind him. He almost laughed. He'd beaten his students during practice for letting their guards down, and now.... He coughed, and a little blood trickled from his mouth. The world began to spin. Taim pitched face-first to the ground. 

Distantly, he was aware of a man's shout, then the sound of women screaming. He felt like he should care, should do something about it, but he couldn't for the Light of him remember why. A bee buzzed past his nose and settled on a blade of grass several inches from his face. He eyed it curiously. Why did everything suddenly look hazy...? 

Something warm and solid enveloped him, and he realized he was being lifted. Taim couldn't summon the energy to care. His head lolled back, and everything went dark. 

\---

Logain carried Taim towards the Tower, face grim. The man was bleeding copiously everywhere. Whatever that Aes Sedai had done to him, it was beyond his abilities to Heal. He wished Rand hadn't recalled Flinn. Light, he didn't even know which of the students had a Talent for Healing. 

The pandemonium had begun to die down. On his orders, the attacking Aes Sedai had been shielded and rounded up near the Stone. He'd deal with them later. First, he had to do something about Taim. He started towards Taim's house - mansion, palace, whatever it was - but at the last minute changed his mind. Instead he carried Taim towards his own dwelling. He'd felt strange, living in the barracks with the others; after so long on his own, trying to sleep with so many men around him made him distinctly uncomfortable. The small two-story house that he'd taken as his own was humble, but it was his. 

"M'Hael!" Suddenly, Mishraile was running towards them. 

Logain didn't glance back, but said tersely, "Mishraile, find me someone who can Heal. Send them here. Quickly. The M'Hael will die if the bleeding isn't stopped soon." 

A choked sound came from Mishraile, but he took off as fast as his legs would carry him. Logain struggled to open the door without dropping Taim. Light, the man was dead weight. Face tense, Logain gently deposited Taim on the bed and strode to the kitchen for supplies. There he found Nessa, the woman he'd hired to cook and clean for him. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and frightened. 

"Master Logain!" she cried, rushing forward. "What's happening up at the Tower? I didn't know - I couldn't - he told me to stay here!" 

Logain stared at her, then remembered: her husband was one of the Dedicated; she was afraid for his safety. But there was no time to reassure her. "The M'Hael is bleeding to death in a chair," he said, his voice coming out rougher than he'd intended. "I need something - _anything_ \- to staunch his wound until someone arrives to Heal him." 

Nessa nodded briskly. "Yes, Master Logain." She began to rummage for supplies. Without a word, Logain stalked back to the room where Taim lay. 

The man's face was pale, his breathing shallow and rapid. He wasn't going to last much longer. 

"Blood and ashes!" Logain slammed his fist against the wall in helpless frustration. "Hold on, Taim," he added more quietly. "Mishraile will be back soon with help." Under his breath, he muttered, "He'd better be, or I'll kill the poncy lad." 

"Logain." 

Taim's eyes were glassy and dazed, but they were trained on Logain. He let out a wry, mirthless laugh that turned into a burbling cough. Another trickle of blood escaped his blue-tinged lips, causing Logain to wince. "It seems you're the M'Hael now after all." 

Logain knelt beside Taim and scowled. "Shut up," he snapped. At that moment, Nessa appeared with a bundle of bandages and what looked like ointments. Unceremoniously, she nudged Logain out of the way. 

"I need space," she told Logain sharply. At his look, she added in a more gentle voice, "If you want me to help him, I need you to give us some space. Please." 

Logain stared down at Taim for a moment, a helpless expression on his face. Finally, he nodded. "Just save him," he said, then turned abruptly and walked into the kitchen. There, he poured a glass of wine. A harsh bellow of pain echoed from the other room. Logain took a deep swig. It was going to be a long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter was pretty short, and it was a last-minute addition, so I'm posting this one now, too. So, I took quite a few liberties with the assault on the Black Tower scene, but hopefully you all enjoyed it! I had fun writing this one; I have a real fondness for mayhem. XD Anyway, more shenanigans to follow!


	6. Overfire

Taim burned. It felt as though every nerve in his body had been set ablaze in a roaring inferno. Had Tarmon Gai'don come already? Or had he died, and this was the Great Lord's punishment? He couldn't remember...anything, but he was dimly aware of tense, hushed voices. Someone kept touching his side, and each time they did, a surge of heat lashed him brutally. Semirhage. Did Semirhage have him? Taim thought he laughed. 

"Is he going to die?"

Taim heard as if from a great distance. It was hard to make out through the buzzing in his ears, but the voice sounded familiar. Though the word "die" was far from encouraging - wait, that must mean he wasn't dead yet? - something about that low, rough baritone acted like a balm to his burning nerves. He let himself drift.

\---

"Is he going to die?" Logain demanded, jerking his head in Taim's direction. The man's face was ashen; he looked so...frail, lying there on Logain's bed. Nothing at all like the proud, indomitable man he'd come to know.

Nessa staunched the blood as best she could, then cleaned and bandaged the wound. What felt like hours later, her husband arrived home, looking battered but otherwise unharmed. Mishraile and a balding middle-aged man rushed in on his heels. Mishraile dissolved into hysterics at the sight of the unconscious Taim, and Logain had to throw him out of the house. The older gentleman, a Dedicated by the name of Natalen Ranel, knelt beside the M'Hael and drew _saidin_. 

Logain paced back and forth until Nessa snapped at him that he was making Natalen nervous. He subsided back to the chair, but he couldn't take his eyes off Taim. It was foolish, but he thought that if he kept his gaze trained on the still, wan man, he could hold him in this world by force of will alone.

Whatever weaves Natalen was using _were_ helping. Color had returned to Taim's face, and his breathing had grown less labored. But something was wrong. Natalen was too new to Healing, Logain realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn't Heal Taim all the way.

"I've done all I can," Natalen said at last. He stood a bit unsteadily, and his face was drawn and haggard with exhaustion. He glanced at Logain with more than a bit of anxiety. "I'm sorry, Lord Logain. I've never done this kind of Healing before. He's stabilized now, but his body needs time to recover. If he makes it through the night, he should be all right." He hesitated. "I wish I could do more."

"No, you did well," Logain heard himself say. "You can go back to the barracks and rest."

Natalen nodded tiredly and departed. Logain heard Mishraile ambush the poor man and demand to know Taim's status, but he tuned it out. It wasn't his problem.

Nessa's husband went to wash up, and she followed him out with one last worried glance at Logain. Once the door had closed behind them, Logain moved his chair closer to the bed and stared down at Taim. 

Slowly, almost of its own volition, his hand reached out and grasped the other man's. Logain stared at it in mild surprise, but he let it stay. Taim's palm was clammy. Logain noted absently that it was quite calloused, and he wondered what Taim had done before declaring himself the Dragon. He couldn't imagine the formidable M'Hael as a farmer, but these were not the hands of a nobleman. It was strange, really. He knew so little of the other man, and yet in some ways, it was as though he'd known him forever. The way their lives had paralleled each other's.... A wave of grief washed over him. There were so few people Logain had ever cared for; men who could channel rarely had friends, or lovers. Well, he'd had plenty of lovers, but they'd all been tavern women and whores. None of them had cared for him, and he'd never felt any desire for more than a quick tumble.

Whatever he felt for Taim...it was different. He didn't really know what to call it. The connection between them felt stronger than mere friendship; although, he supposed, he wouldn't really know, as he'd never before had a friend. Was Taim a friend? Well, whatever he was, Logain didn't want to lose -

"L - Logain?"

Logain stared down at Taim, stunned. The man's eyes were open and remarkably lucid, though his body still appeared fragile. "I'm here, Taim," he said quickly. "I'll call for Nessa." Belatedly, he remembered that he was still holding Taim's hand. He pulled away somewhat reluctantly and stood up.

"Ambushed me," Taim muttered darkly. His gaze sharpened. "The Tower. Did - ?"

"It still stands," Logain told him. He ran a weary hand through his dark curling hair. "The Aes Sedai have been rounded up. The Asha'man have them shielded and under guard. No one wanted to act while you were...." He trailed off.

Taim began to cough, and Logain hastily shoved a goblet of water into his hands. After several long gulps, Taim handed the cup back. His glittering black eyes measured Logain for a moment before he spoke. "Did I...say anything? While I was...?" For some reason, he looked incredibly tense.

Logain rubbed his eyes. Light, he was exhausted. It took him a moment to process the man's question. He thought back, trying to remember. "You said something about the end of the world," he said slowly. "And I do believe you called Nessa 'Semirhage'." He snorted as he remembered the look on the poor woman's face. She'd gone into a state of apoplexy and almost left the room in high dudgeon. Only a hard stare from Logain had made her stay. He grimaced. He'd have to apologize to her at some point.

"Semirhage," Taim said quietly. "Did I...say anything else? About her." His hands were flexing around the bedsheets, Logain noticed.

"No," replied Logain. "You should sleep more, Taim. You're getting agitated." He realized as soon as the words were out of his mouth that perhaps that hadn't been the most helpful phrasing. It had to be a testament to Taim's exhaustion that the man didn't snap back at him.

Logain blinked slowly. For a moment, everything wavered.

Taim's hand seized him by the arm. "Logain," he said sharply. "You need to rest, too."

"I'm fine," Logain muttered, and Taim's eyebrows drew together. 

"You're swaying," Taim observed. He shucked off the covers and tried to stand. "Go to bed. I'll - "

Logain reacted without thinking. He lunged to shove Taim gently back down. "Blood and bloody ashes, Taim," he growled as the other man's eyebrows shot up at his audacity. "You just got _stabbed_ with _saidar._ Stay. In. Bed." Suddenly, his knees buckled, and before he could do anything to stop himself, he keeled face-forward onto Taim.

Taim gave a harsh grunt of pain as Logain's face connected with his stomach. Logain grimaced and tried to get up, but his legs didn't want to support him. He managed to get his head off of Taim's wounded side, at least, but he still lay sprawled awkwardly across the weakened man's chest. 

"You idiot," Taim snarled, but there was no venom in his voice. He tried to lift the other man off of him, but he didn't have the strength. Sighing, he settled for shifting Logain into a position that was more comfortable for both of them.

Logain began to snore. Taim just stared. He felt like he should be annoyed - _very_ annoyed. He was the M'Hael, for Light's sake! The M'Hael of the Black Tower should not have to deal with pig-headed men falling asleep on top of him; it was outlandish. But the sound was oddly comforting, and at last Taim's eyes drifted closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write stories that are either incredibly comedic or incredibly tragic. I almost never write romance, so I'm not sure how this turned out, to be honest. 
> 
> I know Logain's maid was the wife of one of the men, but I wasn't able to locate her name (if she was even named in the series), so I decided to just call her Nessa.
> 
> Oh, and when I'm done with this story, I'll post my writing playlist (the songs in the chapter titles), since apparently that's something writers do over on Tumblr.


	7. Trip the Darkness

He couldn't feel his right arm. A jolt of alarm shot through Taim, and he forced himself to wakefulness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the harsh light; garish rays slashed through a gap in the curtains, and he winced. For a moment, everything blurred, and something soft tickled his nostrils. What in the Light...?

Logain Ablar shifted position, and a tumble of dark hair brushed across Taim's face. Startled, Taim scrambled backwards and a burning pain lashed at his side. He groaned as all the events of the previous night came rushing back. He stared down at the sleeping man in consternation. Logain had fallen asleep on top of him and all of his weight was currently crushing Taim's arm. He gave a light push, but the man wouldn't budge.

With a sigh, he settled back against the headboard. Logain had saved his life. _Logain had saved his life._ Taim grimaced. How in the Pit of Doom had he let that Aes Sedai sneak up on him? And - Light! - what had become of the witches?

"M'Hael, you're awake! I was so - " Logain's servant - Nessa, was it? - stood frozen in the threshold. Her jaw was gaping open, and her mouth worked silently. Taim frowned, then realized belatedly that Logain was still draped across him. Again he tried to push the man off.

Logain stirred with a grunt. He opened his eyes blearily, then blinked, confused. He noticed Nessa staring at him in disbelief. He was about to ask her what was wrong when Taim cleared his throat. Logain Ablar let out a very manly yell and bolted upright.

"Lord Logain!" Nessa exclaimed as Logain struggled to his feet. "What in the Light do you think you're doing?"

Logain scowled. "Leave it, Nessa. What's going on?"

"You collapsed," Taim informed the other man. He rotated his arm gingerly; it felt as though he'd been assaulted with needles. "You really shouldn't have exerted yourself so much."

"I'll try to remember that the next time I save your life," Logain replied dryly. His tone sobered. "How are you, Taim?"

Taim shrugged, feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed. "I'll live. I've endured worse." He hadn't, but he wasn't about to tell Logain that; his dignity had surely suffered enough for one...well, ever.

Nessa looked back and forth between the two men. "Yes, well, that's all well and good," she said. "But your men are in quite the state, M'Hael. I had to forcibly eject the foppish one, and then I caught him trying to peer in the window!" Her expression was scandalized.

Logain snorted. "Mishraile is in love with Taim," he told Nessa, and Taim made a disgruntled sound. His eyes narrowed suddenly. "What of the Aes Sedai?" he demanded. "What's been done with them?"

"They're being held in the stables. Lord Logain, M'Hael." Nessa's husband Darven appeared at the door, acknowledging both men with a slight bow. "The Asha'man have them shielded." The Dedicated hesitated. "A couple of them fought back. Asha'man Kisman killed them." Taim's eyes barely flickered, so he went on. "Gedwyn and Rochaid are waiting on your orders, M'Hael."

Taim's face had become a cold mask. He got to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his side. "I will deal with them." He glanced over at Logain. "Logain and I will deal with them."

\---

What looked like the Black Tower's entire population stood gathered around the Stone. At the M'Hael's approach, they all rushed to salute. Mishraile took a step forward; he seemed about to collapse from relief. Taim acknowledged the young man with a nod of his head; Asha'man Mishraile had risked his life to protect him, he remembered. Mishraile narrowed his eyes at Logain, but said nothing as the two men took their places before the congregation.

Several feet away stood almost two dozen Aes Sedai. They were surrounded by Asha'man. Their faces were pale and frightened as Taim snared their gazes one by one. There was no pity in his eyes, though he regarded them blandly enough.

"Aes Sedai." His voice was glacial. "Of the Red Ajah, I presume." Several of them flinched.

One woman jutted out her chin with an offended look on her face. She was clearly terrified, but she said in a calm voice, "I'm of the Green. M'Hael."

Taim raised one eyebrow, and she subsided with a shudder. "Gedwyn." His Storm Leader broke apart from the others and saluted sharply. "How many fatalities?"

Gedywn grimaced. "Six, M'Hael. Two Dedicated and four Soldiers. Several others were injured, but they've since been Healed."

The look Taim cast the captive Aes Sedai was murderous. As one, they flinched under his stare. Taim glanced over at Logain. The other man could be hard, but he did seem to have somewhat of a gallant streak at times. Taim doubted Logain would approve of his decision, but his mind was made up. To his surprise, however, Logain was regarding the women with a dark look; he seemed on the verge of violence himself. 

Taim's expression was frigid as he surveyed the trembling Aes Sedai. "Gedwyn," he said. "Bring six of the Aes Sedai forward. Reds, I think."

Without a pause, Charl Gedwyn gestured curtly to the other Asha'man. After a bit of a struggle, six of the witches were hauled to the front. Taim regarded them impassively for a moment. Then, with a shrug, he said, "Kill them."

Several of the men blanched. One of the Dedicated took a step forward. "M'Hael," he protested anxiously. "They're only women. Surely we can just lock them up or something." His expression brightened. "We could send them to the Lord Dragon! He'll know what to do with 'em." Taim glared at him, and he took a hasty step back.

To Taim's surprise, it was Logain who came to his defense. "The Aes Sedai would have killed or gentled us all," he spoke up quietly. "They've shown us no mercy; they hate us just for being what we are. If we don't set an example here, today, who knows how many more they'll send?" He met Taim's eyes for a moment. "It has to be done."

No one said a word; they all knew Logain's history with the White Tower. One of the Aes Sedai whimpered, and Logain looked away. Taim steeled himself. He had passed sentence; it fell to him to execute the women, he realized. He met each of their eyes in turn without so much as a flicker to betray his feelings.

None of them tried to run or fight; they could not. The Asha'man held the Aes Sedai bound with the Power. Even their faces were frozen; they could not move. But their eyes.... Taim knew they'd haunt his dreams 'til the day he died.

He wove the Power into a deadly knot, then released it in a rush of Fire and Spirit before he could change his mind. One by one, the women were incinerated. It was very quick, but Taim wanted to sick up. His expression betrayed none of his turmoil, however; the M'Hael's face could have been made of stone. At last, he turned to the remaining Aes Sedai. Several of them had begun to retch; some of his own men had, as well.

"You are under my command now." Taim's gaze practically staked them in place. "Gedwyn, Rochaid." He snared his Storm and Attack Leaders' eyes, and silent communication passed between them. "You know where to bring them."

Without another word, Taim stalked off towards his palace.

"Taim! Taim, wait."

 _Logain._ Taim heaved a sigh. He did not want to see the other man. Not now. All he wanted was a scalding bath and some rest.

"You're not fully recovered," Logain pointed out. His long strides brought him up beside the M'Hael. "Stay with me," he said suddenly. "Nessa will be able to re-dress your wound, at least. Er...as long as you don't call her 'Semirhage' again."

Taim was about to snap, to say he was fine, that he didn't need to be coddled like a child. Instead, he turned and silently followed Logain Ablar back to his house. Light, what was he going to do? How could he bring himself to betray Logain _now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glarg! Sorry about the delay! Adult-ing has been a thing lately. This chapter gave me a bit of trouble (I was never satisfied with the canon version of the assault on the Tower, but I know I took quite a few liberties); fortunately, things are about to get really crazy. XD


	8. A Dangerous Mind

As soon as the bedroom door had closed behind them, Taim doubled over and retched. Unable to do anything but curse his own weakness to the Pit of Doom and back, Mazrim Taim sicked up all over Logain's floor. He was dimly aware of the other man holding his hair out of the way. He wanted to say something sarcastic; Light, the M'Hael should have _some_ kind of biting comment at the ready. But all he felt was gratitude.

At last, Taim straightened. His face was leeched of all color, and he was sweating profusely. The wound in his side throbbed. Silently, Logain handed him a goblet of water to wash out his mouth. Taim took a large gulp and nearly choked. Eyes watering, he glared at Logain.

"That wasn't water, was it?" Logain grimaced. 

"No," Taim said, wiping his mouth. He muttered something under his breath, and Logain's eyebrows shot up.

"Language," Logain chided with some amusement. _Trolloc balls_ was quite the...erm, colorful curse; he would have to use that one himself sometime. He sobered. "Are you all right, Taim?" He eyed the M'Hael carefully. "Do you want me to call Nessa?"

Taim's face colored. Did the man think him an invalid now? "No," he snapped. "Contrary to what you must be thinking, I am _not_ weak. I merely...." His vision swam and he glanced over at the bed; it looked very warm and inviting. Without a word, Logain took Taim by the arm and deposited him lightly on the bed.

"Sit." Ignoring the other man's affronted expression, Logain crossed his arms over his chest. "I know you're not weak, Taim," he said at last. "I don't know where you got that idea, but I don't think that." He settled his muscular frame on the edge of the mattress beside Taim and sighed pensively. "You're holding the Tower together, Taim. Against all odds. These men...they'd have nothing without you." He paused. "None of us would." 

Taim watched with an inscrutable expression as Logain stood and headed towards the door. "You should rest. Now, I need to go apologize to Nessa," Logain added with a wince. "I'll be back later."

Taim stared as the heavy oak door shut behind Logain. Then he lay back gingerly and closed his eyes.

\---

He stood in the middle of a dark room. The only illumination came from a single wall sconce. Taim stared at it hard. He must be more exhausted than he'd thought; had those flames just blazed _green?_ He shook his head and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, the chamber was well-lit. A tall man stood facing the far wall, his hands linked behind his back. Just like al'Thor, Taim thought. The man turned, and Taim felt a shock of fear. 

_It's just a dream,_ he reminded himself. _Just a dream._

"Did you know that in what you call the Age of Legends, light came from glowbulbs, not fire?" Moridin said conversationally. At Taim's confused look - what in the Pit of Doom was a _glowbulb?_ \- he turned to contemplate the wall sconce. Taim's eyes widened. It was no longer ablaze; instead, there was a small, oddly-shaped glass glowing with light. Moridin studied Taim in silence for several moments. He tilted his head, and the bulb vanished, to be replaced again by the dancing fire. 

"What do you want, Moridin?" said Taim tiredly. "Is a dreamless sleep too much to ask?"

"A dream?" Moridin regarded him with an almost academic interest. "You think this is a dream?" To Taim's shock, the Nae'blis laughed. "You sound just like him, you know." 

At Taim's flummoxed stare, Moridin chuckled. The sound was chilling, coming from him; it was tinged with madness. "Al'Thor. He is also obsessed with this idea of _dreaming._ But what is reality?" For a moment, he gazed into the fire with a melancholy expression on his handsome face. Then he turned to Taim and his look sharpened. "Tell me, Taim. What has Demandred taught you? Other than the basics, of course." 

Dream or no dream, Taim automatically answered the Nae'blis; he dared do nothing else. "Mostly destructive weaves. His focus was primarily on warfare. And..." He hesitated. "...and on the other Chosen." 

Moridin arched an eyebrow. "And what did he tell you of the Chosen?" he asked. His posture exuded boredom, but his gaze was avid on Taim's face. 

"Not much," Taim admitted. "He was quite reticent. He told me nothing of their plans, or his personal feelings towards them." He hesitated. _Just a dream._ "But he did indicate that several of you are involved with the Tower. I do not know which," he added. "I do know that he is...occupied elsewhere at the moment, but he has spies planted at the Tower. Asha'man Kisman is one; I have not yet identified the others, but I have my suspicions." 

Moridin made a dismissive gesture. "What did he tell you of _Turning?_ " 

Taim froze. Turning. The most despicable thing that could be done to a channeler; worse even than gentling, if all he'd heard was true. "I know that it was developed in the Age of Legends," he said carefully. "And that it requires both Myrddraal and Dreadlords." 

"And did you know that the procedure works best if women channelers are involved?" 

For an awful, dizzying moment, Taim stared at the Nae'blis in horror. "The Aes Sedai," he said, as dread ratcheted down his spine. "He gave me orders that I was to detain any Aes Sedai who came by the Tower; as many as I could without arousing suspicion. You want me to Turn the men." 

Moridin regarded him with something like approval. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I want you to Turn them. The Great Lord needs more Dreadlords serving his cause. Tarmon Gai'don approaches, Taim. You have no idea how near the end is." He laughed; it was a wild, almost hysterical sound. Taim felt chilled. "Serve me in this, and you will be rewarded." 

"Yes, Nae'blis," replied Taim dully. Light, what was he to do now? He couldn't very well refuse.... 

The look Moridin tossed him then was cold, knowing. "You will begin with Logain Ablar." Quick as a viper, he seized Taim's arm and gripped it, tightly enough to hurt. His nails dug into skin. "Do not fail me, Taim." 

\---

Taim bolted upright in bed. His breath came in quick bursts and sweat stung his eyes. "Just a dream," he said. "Just a dream...." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he'd mastered himself. Cold, aloof. No one would ever know how close to the edge he'd come. He glanced down, and his eyes flew wide with shock.

There were small gouge marks on his arms. Marks in the shape of nails....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I added a quick extra chapter as penance for taking so long to update. XD The dream is a new addition. I may take a little bit longer to post from now on (sorry!), but I'll try to post more than one at once if I'm several weeks late again.


	9. See Me in Shadow

He found Logain sitting hunched in a small library alcove off the kitchen. For a moment, Taim just watched him without speaking. The man was too large for the space; almost comically large, with his long legs hauled up practically to his chin. _Why does the man not simply get himself a taller stool?_ Taim wondered. Logain shifted position, gaze still intent on the book in his hands. A lock of dark hair tumbled into his face, and Taim felt an absurd urge to brush it out of the way. 

He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. No. No, this was a bad time. Surely his revelation could wait. How often in the coming days would Logain get to enjoy a quiet hour with his book? The man deserved whatever moments of peace he could steal before the world burned to cinders around them. Taim turned to go.

"Taim," Logain said suddenly, closing his book with a snap. 

Slowly, Taim glanced back over his shoulder. Logain had stood up to greet him. Light, the man was tall! _How does he manage not to knock himself unconscious against the ceilings on a regular basis?_ Taim wondered distractedly. 

"Taim, what is it?" Logain said. There was startling warmth on his face right then, and concern. 

Taim started. He knew he'd kept his expression carefully neutral; how had Logain known something was wrong? He sighed. There was no way he could keep this from the other man. Not now. Not after everything they'd already been through. Taim exhaled wearily; he had no idea how to go about this. Why hadn't he given it more thought first? Burn it all!

Suddenly, Logain's hand was on his shoulder. It felt warm, solid. Comforting. Taim drew back. He didn't want to be comforted; Light knew he didn't deserve it.

"Mazrim." Taim raised startled eyes to Logain. "I'm calling you Mazrim. I don't like Taim; it doesn't suit you," Logain told him bluntly. "Taim reminds me too much of Faim." At Taim's look, he added, "Faim Bashere? Davram Bashere's crazy cousin, the one behind that sheep incident."

Taim grimaced. He vaguely remembered hearing about that. He'd been readying his troops for war at the time, so he hadn't followed the rumors too closely. But he _had_ overheard some of his men talking about a cousin of Lord Bashere's who'd gone mad and...well. Saldaeans already had enough of a reputation for their...liberal tendencies, without some madman of a Saldaean noble deciding to marry all of his sheep with great pomp and festivities.

"Mazrim is fine," Taim said curtly, and Logain grinned.

"You do know that Faim claimed that one of his, um, wives was a powerful channeler, and that she'd promised to help support his claims to the succession?"

Taim nearly choked. "What?" he demanded. Logain was brimming with mirth; it made him look a decade younger. "Was he - was he one of - ? Did the taint drive him mad?"

"No," Logain said thoughtfully. "When I was staying with the rebel Aes Sedai, before I was Healed, I overheard the lot of them talking about it. He couldn't channel; no, Faim was just an ordinary madman."

Taim looked at the other man curiously. This was the first time he'd heard him mention his captivity and gentling. To his surprise, there was only a little bitterness in Logain's voice. When the other former false Dragon had arrived at the Tower, he'd darkened the room with it. Now, he seemed far more relaxed, in spite of everything that had happened. What had changed him?

"I'm going to have some wine," Logain said abruptly. Taim followed him into the kitchen, bemused. He watched as Logain poured a glass, then handed it to him. He took it with a surprised nod of thanks. Logain poured one for himself, and the two men sat down across from each other at the table.

"Why did you do it?" Taim asked suddenly. Logain's eyebrows raised, and he went on, "Declare yourself the Dragon. Why did you do it?"

Logain sat back, looking surprised. "I...no one's ever asked me that before," he said finally. He eyed Taim over his goblet. "You know I was raised noble," he said at last. Taim nodded, and he went on, "I wasn't actually born to it." At Taim's startled look, he said wryly, "Yes, you heard right. That's my dark secret. I'm illegitimate." 

"And that bothered you," Taim guessed.

To his surprise, Logain shook his head. "No, not really," he said. At Taim's look of disbelief, he clarified, "I wasn't treated like a bastard; I was raised right alongside the heir. Given the same education. Same tutors. In many ways, I was the favored one, but my brother and I didn't care. We competed, of course. But it only turned ugly once, when I stole away his two - " He coughed, and Taim arched an eyebrow. "Never mind. But we were brothers. To be honest, I think Greave would have handed over the title to me, if I'd wanted it; Light bless him, he never had any talent for politics. All he said he wanted to do was become a gleeman. Or possibly open a brothel." He snorted fondly, but then his expression darkened. "Then I learned that I could channel." He took a long swig of wine. "After that...well."

Taim could sense what was coming. He felt unexpectedly morose at the thought. "They cast you out?"

"No," said Logain, surprising him again. "I left on my own; I didn't want to see how they'd look at me when they learned the truth. I packed my bags overnight and just...left. They put out a reward for me, you know. My father even...." He sighed. "My father wasn't the most...sociable man, but he had one friend he trusted, someone he'd fought beside once. A Warder, by the name of Al'Lan." Taim frowned; how did he know that name? "He asked that man to keep an eye out for me. Of course, he didn't know what I was, then." Logain's mouth twisted bitterly. "I noticed the Warder watching me at a tavern. I thought I was going to have to kill him, but he took off one night very abruptly, and I never saw him again after that. It wasn't until much later that I learned who he really was." Taim was confused, but Logain didn't elaborate further, so he settled back to listen to the rest of the story.

"I'd already started to gather some men around me by then, though I wasn't quite sure why I had." He sipped at his drink, expression pensive. "I kept seeing...things. Things that shouldn't exist outside of legend. Some tried to kill me; I destroyed all I came across, using _saidin._ Then I heard whispers that the Dark One was returning." Taim flinched, but Logain didn't see, lost in his contemplation of his goblet. "And they said the Dragon had been Reborn." He met Taim's eyes then. "I didn't truly believe that I was, I don't think. But after a time...I suppose I wanted to be. I knew that I was destined to go mad. I suppose...I suppose I thought that if I were the Dragon, I might be able to save something, rather than destroy everything." Taim looked at him in shock, and Logain regarded him knowingly. "It sounds foolish, now," he added with a shrug, taking another long sip. "But it gave me focus. I needed that, then."

He set down his goblet and stared at it moodily. His face had taken on a darker cast. "The next time I saw my family was across the battlefield. I'd all but razed Ghealdan to the ground. I was so close to achieving it all; I could _feel_ it, Taim." His voice was intense. "And then I saw him. Greave. Staring back at me from his horse, his eyes black with hatred and betrayal." Logain took a long gulp of wine, then poured himself some more. "It seems that in an earlier skirmish, without even knowing it, I'd...I'd killed our father. He was one of many who opposed me, and I just decimated everyone in my way." He downed the rest of his wine. "When I saw Greave leading the armies with the blue-and-gold sigil of our House, I knew. Light, neither of us had any idea what to do. For a moment, I thought we'd both just walk off the board; I'd even started to turn my mount away. But then he raised his sword." Logain fell silent for a long time. Without a word, Taim placed his hand over the other man's, and Logain looked back at him gratefully. "I killed him. I wove Fire, and I killed him. After that, I went into a frenzy. I took out everything and every _one_ around me. The Aes Sedai were upon me before I even knew what hit me...." He trailed off.

Taim's chest twisted painfully. He thought _he'd_ been the one most wronged, the person most hurt in all of this. Light, how ignorant he'd been. He didn't know what to do or say to help Logain; his talents had always been for destruction, not healing. Before Taim knew quite what he was doing, he'd embraced the other man.

Logain leaned into him, and his shudders gradually subsided. They stayed like that for Light knew how long before he finally broke away.

Logain let out a low, self-deprecating laugh. "Flaming wine," he growled. His face colored a little. It made him look very...young, somehow. Endearingly so. He shook his head disgustedly and changed the subject. "What were you going to tell me, Mazrim?"

Taim froze. "Nothing," he said quickly. "It was nothing important."

"Mazrim." The look in Logain's dark eyes took him by surprise; it was hesitant, and strangely vulnerable. "You can trust me, you know."

Taim swallowed and downed his goblet, then set it aside. "I know I can," he said, with some surprise. Light, when had he _ever_ trusted anyone? But he trusted Logain Ablar with his life. 

"Logain," he started, then took a deep breath. "There's something I have to tell you. About me, and the Tower - " His words came out in a rush. "I've been serving the Shadow. I'm...I'm a Darkfriend. I didn't want it," he added hastily. "I didn't want any of it - but it was a choice between either death or serving the Dark One, and...well. I'm sorry," he said at last. "I've been working with one of the Ch - Forsaken. Two, really. Demandred and...the death one." Trolloc balls, how much had he had to drink? Taim shook his head. "Now I've been ordered to Turn everyone to the Dark against their will." He raised his eyes slowly to Logain's, dreading the look of disappointment and betrayal he'd see there. Logain regarded him stonily, and the utter lack of emotion in his eyes made Taim flinch. "I was ordered to...to start with you."

For a long moment, Logain said nothing. Suddenly, he stood, cursing vehemently. Then his shoulders began to shake.

Taim stared at him in alarm. Was the man actually... _crying?_ What in the Pit of Doom was he supposed to do now? He'd been prepared to face recrimination, anger, even hatred. But this...?

Suddenly, he realized that Logain was laughing. The Ghealdanin had doubled over, and tears of mirth were streaming down his cheeks. Taim stared at him in total consternation. He had just confessed to serving the Shadow, and Logain was _laughing_ at him?

"Me, too!" Logain wheezed, and Taim stared at him aghast. _What? How?_ No. Impossible. _Logain_ couldn't be a Darkfriend! He couldn't be. Moridin wouldn't have ordered the man Turned if he was. Unless...unless Logain was serving Demandred? Frantically, Taim thought back over his encounters with the Chosen who'd recruited him for any indication that he may have somehow converted Logain as well. 

"I'm the Dark Lord's most devoted servant," Logain went on, and now he was slapping his knees heartily. "I suppose we'll have to fight each other for first place now, Mazrim, eh?" Suddenly, his great shoulders sagged, and he went to sit - and missed the chair by about a foot. He landed on his arse on the floor and looked up at Taim. "I don't want to fight you, Mazrim," he said seriously. "I don't want to fight anyone I care about ever again. The Dark One can rot in Shayol Ghul," he said suddenly, savagely. "Let's just not fight." He leaned against the wall and soon began to snore.

Taim stood stock-still, staring. His mouth gaped open. Light! He'd just confessed his entire sorry tale to a flaming drunkard. Suddenly, he began to laugh himself. He laughed and laughed and laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. The sound reminded him of Moridin's deranged cackle, but he couldn't seem to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there are currently two versions of this story: the one I wrote originally, and the one I've been developing as I keep getting more and more feedback from y'all. I've finally decided which one I'll post, but you'll get to see the alternate ending as a bonus after the epilogue. Neither version was meant to reveal the truth quite this early (not seriously, anyway), though; sorry, quiet_wraith! 
> 
> I've always imagined Logain as a rather outlandish drunk, and this seemed the best way to do it; you'll see why later. XD 
> 
> As for the name switch, I REALLY prefer the sound of "Mazrim" to "Taim." Why I chose to use an insane Saldaean nobleman and his sheep wives as my reason for changing the name can only be explained as...well, there really is no explanation, except that you're reading a story written by someone who is herself totally nuts! XD
> 
> The part about Lan has no basis in canon except that Rand believed Lan knew Logain personally somehow. That observation happened in TEotW, though, so Rand had no idea what was going on at the time. There's a reason I went with this theory, however.
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me while I decided how I was going to go about this. Your patience will be rewarded.


	10. Bare Grace Misery

When Logain opened his eyes the next morning, he really wished he hadn't. Sunlight lanced into his skull, impaling his brain with its harsh, garish rays. _Blood and bloody ashes_ , he thought, groaning in pain. _Not_ again.

"Good morning," Mazrim said quietly from a chair beside the bed. _Bed?_ Logain was fairly certain he'd never made it as far as his bedchamber before passing out. "How are you feeling?" His slanted black orbs were trained on Logain. 

"Glarg," Logain informed him elegantly. _Burn me,_ he thought with a miserable moan. He fumbled beside the bed and just barely managed to haul his chamber pot out in time. He hoped the other man had glanced away. To his surprise, he felt a soft brush at his temples as Mazrim moved to sweep his hair out of the way. "Ungh."

"Don't try to talk," Mazrim ordered. "Here, take this." He helped Logain to sit up and thrust a goblet into his hands. "You need to drink."

Logain eyed the cup askance. "Are you mad, Mazrim? Never again."

"I'm not mad yet, and that is water," replied Mazrim levelly. "You need to drink."

"I know. I've been drunk before," Logain mumbled, taking a tentative sip. His stomach churned, but he managed to subdue it, at least for the moment. He placed the empty cup on the bedside table and winced up at Mazrim. Why did the man's head have to be so...bright? It was surrounded by a brilliant glowing light. 

"That would be the sun," said Mazrim, standing up to close the curtain. Darkness descended on the room, and Logain let out a breath of relief. Light, had he really said that out loud? Mazrim settled himself back in the chair and turned his gaze on Logain, expression shuttered. "Does this...happen often?"

Logain let out a hoarse laugh and immediately regretted it as pain seared across his skull. "Not like this," he muttered. "I'm...sorry."

"No need to apologize." Mazrim was staring at him. There was something...odd in his expression. It took Logain a moment before he realized it was trepidation. "What do you remember?"

Why was the man asking him this _now?_ But there was so much anxiety on Mazrim's usually stoic face, Logain felt compelled to answer him. "We...talked about being Dragons. Well, I did," he amended with a small grimace of pain. And embarrassment. Then his eyes widened in sudden rememberance, causing his head to give an angry throb. "You told me you're a Darkfriend." Mazrim tensed, almost imperceptibly, and Logain went on, "Thank you." At the man's thunderstruck expression, Logain said, "For distracting me from...from everything. That was a very unusual way of doing it, but I'm glad you did."

"You're - you're welcome."

"I hadn't thought you had a sense of humor, to be honest," Logain went on. " _You,_ a servant of the Dark! What next, Amyrlin Seat?" He could hear the fond amusement in his voice as he spoke. "Like I could ever believe _you_ were a Darkfriend. Like you'd ever be that stupid!" Mazrim shifted a little. "I don't know what I'd do if I discovered someone I knew was one. Even if they could be turned back to the Light, I know I could never trust them again." He was talking mostly to himself now, but the other man was watching him intently.

Mazrim rose to his feet suddenly and headed toward the door. "Rest. I'm going to go get you some food." Logain began to protest, but Mazrim cut him off with a glare. "Yes, I am. You stay there," he added, as if Logain was in any state to go anywhere. "I'll be back soon." He shut the door very gently behind him.

\---

Taim leaned back against the door for a moment. Logain thought he'd told him all of that to _distract_ him? He'd confessed to serving the Shadow, laid himself bare to the other man, and Logain thought he'd done it to help him feel better about his own revelations? Why in the Light did Logain think so highly of him? As far as he could tell, he'd done nothing to deserve it. Taim almost laughed, but he knew if he did, he'd never stop. He realized his hands were shaking and took a deep, steadying breath. The next moment, he was the epitome of poise once more. _Light, I can't keep doing this._

\---

The door clicked open at last, and Logain glanced up expectantly. Mazrim was staring back at him with an inscrutable look in his dark, slanted eyes. Logain was glad to see the other man, almost painfully glad, and he knew it showed; he couldn't hide it anymore, or rather, didn't want to. The whole world was likely to be blown to bits in the coming days, regardless. 

"Logain," Mazrim began suddenly, and Logain's pulse began to race (Light, had he really had _that_ much to drink?). "I...." He paused, then glanced away. "I was going to get you some food," he muttered, and turned to go.

Before Logain was even aware of what he was doing, he'd gotten to his feet and crossed the room. "Burn it all," he said under his breath, and kissed Mazrim hard on the mouth.

The Saldaean's black orbs widened in shock, and for one painfully uncomfortable moment, Logain thought he'd misread him. Then, whether out of passion or mere reflex, Mazrim kissed him back. Hungrily, Logain shoved the other man up against the wall.

"What in the Pit of Doom do you think you're doing?" Mazrim demanded in tones of outrage, but his breath hitched a little at the end. "I was trying to tell you som - "

"It can wait," Logain said roughly, and he fumbled at the collar of Mazrim's coat. Did the man really need to have so many accursed extra buttons? Gold, too! Light! Impatiently, he tore the fabric apart, and the man actually stared at the ripped black wool in _dismay!_ "It can wait," he repeated. "This can't."

Mazrim eyed him almost uncertainly, and Logain held his breath. _Light, please don't let this have ruined -_

Suddenly, Mazrim melded his lips to Logain's, and all thought fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argle. I'm so sorry about the wait! _Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa...._ I'd really been dreading this particular chapter, because TBH, I have zero romantic sense and even less "slash" sense. Those particular deficits made it very difficult for me to write this. XD The rest of the story is more my forte, so I'll be able to post a lot more frequently now that this is out of the way.


	11. My Mind's Eye

Taim awoke to the sensation of Logain Ablar's strong arms around him, and the events of the previous night came rushing back. Recalling the feverish intensity - the _urgency_ \- with which he'd responded, it occurred to him that he ought to feel embarrassed. Instead, Taim felt a wash of...contentment. Startled, he glanced at Logain over his shoulder. The other man was snoring lightly, and an expression of peace softened his rugged features. He looked...younger, somehow. Almost innocent. Taim knew he should put a stop to...to whatever this was - but he didn't want to. 

As though he could sense Taim's regard, Logain stirred and blinked up at him sleepily. "Unh," he grunted charmingly. "My head still hurts."

Taim raised his eyebrows. "Good morning to you, too," he remarked wryly. "I think I like you distinctly less in the mornings." He frowned a little. "Really, Logain. I didn't hear any complaints from you when we - " He cut himself off as a wide smirk spread across Logain's face; he could feel his own heat in response. Light, why did his skin always have to _color_ like this? Other Saldaeans didn't seem to have this problem! He grimaced. 

Logain let out a low, warm chuckle. Then his expression sobered. "Mazrim," he said suddenly. "Where are you keeping those Aes Sedai?"

Taim stared at him, taken aback by the abrupt change of topic. Before he could even begin to formulate a response, Logain went on, "And what in the Light is _Turning?_ " 

Taim froze. "Where did you hear that word?" he demanded harshly. 

Logain's gaze had shuttered. He studied Taim in silence for a moment, then said, "You mumbled it in your sleep."

Taim felt his body grow cold. "I see," he replied woodenly. "And what did I say about...about Turning?"

"Not much that I could make out," Logain said disgustedly. "Just that you made a promise to Turn me, whatever that means, and that you'd be using the captive Aes Sedai to do it." He paused, and his gaze seemed piercing enough to drill deep into the Bore itself. "You told me that Moridin would kill you if you didn't. Who in the Pit of Doom is _Moridin?_ "

Taim let out a wild laugh, near hysteria. Who in the Pit of Doom...? An apt question indeed. Logain was looking at him darkly, all afterglow chased away by suspicion. Taim's laughter faded then. _Creator help me,_ he thought numbly. _Light, I was a fool to think this could work!_ The Nae’blis _would_ kill him if he failed, and for what? Whatever he felt for Logain couldn't be worth more than his life. Could it...?

Logain had started to get dressed. His movements were sharp, angry. He didn't understand, but mistrust was written clear across his features. "I need to leave," he said curtly. Taim felt his heart sink. "If you won't tell me what's going on, I'll find out myself! Starting with those flaming Aes Sedai!"

"Wait!" Taim shouted as panic overtook him. Logain paused in the act of lacing up his breeches, startled at the outburst. Without thinking, Taim drew down a torrent of _saidin_. 

Logain's eyes widened in stunned disbelief. Instinctively, he reached for the Source. 

"No," Taim snarled, and lashed out before he could stop himself. His weave slammed into Logain and sent the man sprawling. He felt a sharp pang as Logain slumped to the floor, unconscious. Numbly, he stared down at him. A trickle of blood streamed from a cut on Logain's temple. He was alive, but he'd be out for hours. "I'm sorry. I wish there was another way." 

He quickly wove a gateway. He'd have to start the Turning process right away. He had no choice. There had never been another choice.

\---

Taim's eyes flew open. In a panic, he launched himself upright in bed. Logain was still asleep beside him, snoring steadily. A hundred emotions crashed over Taim at once. Blood and ashes! A dream. Just a dream. 

But not all of it. His heart clenched painfully as he looked down at the sleeping man. Light! What could he do? The Nae’blis' threats had been very real. Taim shuddered violently.

As if he could sense Taim's turmoil, Logain woke. He turned concerned eyes on Taim. "Mazrim," he said, sitting up. "What is it?" He placed a hand on Taim's arm.

Taim jerked away and stood up. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to sneer. "Really, Logain. Do we have to do this now? I see no need to discuss it; it won't happen again." The hurt look on Logain's face nearly undid him. He turned away. "Thank you for your assistance, but I should return to my business. I need to meet with Mishraile." Without another word, he pulled on his clothing and headed for the door. 

"Mazrim - "

Taim closed it behind him, but not before he caught one last glimpse of the man's hurt, bewildered face. The weight of exhaustion and grief nearly flattened him then. Light, but he had no choice! He could only hope that Logain would be sensible and leave the Tower, go join the bloody Lord Dragon if that's what it took - anything but stay here. Taim did not want to have to make this choice; he couldn't.

He squared his shoulders and walked stiffly down the hall. Loudly, he called for Mishraile. He'd drive Logain away, hurt him if he had to. He'd do whatever it took to make the man leave and never look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. LOL. I don't honestly know what else to say at this point, except that I'm sorry. XD I know this was quite a bit shorter than the others, too, but the longer draft didn't work quite as well.
> 
> I hope I don't lose any of you with this one. Things will get better...eventually.
> 
> [NOTE: I had to change the name Renna to "Nessa" to avoid confusion. I'd completely forgotten about Renna Emain. LOL.]


	12. Need to Destroy

"Master Logain, _what_ is the meaning of this?"

Logain, breathing hard, turned to look at Nessa. The serving woman was standing in the doorway, mouth agape as she surveyed the ruins that _had_ been Logain's bedchamber. He growled at her under his breath, and she looked at him askance. Then her eyes widened in outrage, and she strode over to him, gingerly skirting around the upended furniture. She planted her hands on her hips, then abruptly jabbed him hard in the chest. He stared at her in disbelief. Nessa was a gruff woman, to be sure, but she'd always treated him with the utmost respect, if never deference. 

" _That_ was unnecessary, Master Logain. And unacceptable! Mark me, you will treat me with all proper respect, or you will have to get yourself a new helper!" Her gaze on him was hard and uncompromising. For a moment, Logain glared at her. Then, suddenly, his great shoulders slumped and all the rage seemed to deflate with them.

"I am sorry, Nessa," he said, genuinely apologetic. "I don't know what came over me. I - " He sank down on the bed and stared at his hands. _Blood and ashes_ , he thought miserably. How had everything gone so wrong? For once in his life, things had actually been...they'd been....

Nessa settled her considerable posterior beside him on the edge of the bed. She regarded him for a long moment, then patted his arm. He turned away. He didn't want her pity. The look of compassion on her face was almost more than he could bear. Light, he wouldn't break down; he _wouldn't._

"Something went wrong with the M'Hael, I take it," Nessa said at last. Her tone was, as always, brusque, but there was some hesitation in it. Logain's eyes shot to hers. He gaped at her in astonishment. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Everyone knows, Logain."

She hadn't called him "Master Logain" this time. He didn't care how she addressed him, of course; he'd never expected deference from her. Yet he wondered what it meant. Had he really been so obvious? He sighed. "Nessa, I appreciate your...sympathy." He didn't use the word "pity," but Nessa had clearly read between the lines, if her sudden scowl was any indication. "But I would rather be alone right now. Please," he added, and there was a hint of desperation in his voice. _Light, I can't_ do _this._ Nothing in his life could have prepared him for - for _this._ He hadn't felt so low since he'd lost Greave. All the years of loneliness and grief crashed over him then, and before he knew it, he was shuddering and sobbing into her shoulder.

He sat there weeping for what felt like hours. Nessa held him, rocking him as though he were a child. At last, he sat back and raised swollen, red-tinged eyes to hers. He ought to have felt ashamed, but her presence was solid, reassuring. It wasn't pity on her face, he realized; it was _empathy._

"You should go talk to him," Nessa said somberly. "The M'Hael may be an arrogant pig-ki - " At Logain's look, she amended her words. "He may be a hard man, but I think that if you just _talk_ to him...." But Logain was already shaking his head.

"No, Nessa," he sighed glumly. "You don't understand. This isn't - it's not...this isn't an ordinary quarrel. I should never have become involved. I'm a male channeler; I'm bound to go mad and destroy everything and every _one_ that I love." _Love?_ Well, perhaps he did love Mazrim, but that didn't change anything. The man clearly did not return the feeling, and Logain had too much pride to spend his time moping over someone who -

"For Light's sake, get your head out of your fool arse for a moment!" Nessa snapped, and Logain's jaw dropped. "When I met you, Master Logain, I thought you a complicated man. A rather bitter, depressing one, if I'm to be honest." Logain's brow knit together and he frowned. _Well, don't hold back,_ he thought. She went on, "But as I saw how you handled adversity - the others' stares and whispers and avoidance, the assault on the Tower, the M'Hael's near-death experience - you proved yourself to be a man worthy of my respect. And I do not give my respect lightly, Master Logain." She sniffed at him. "But if you are too stubborn and pig-headed to address your feelings, then I see I have clearly wasted my time with you." She rose to her feet and glowered down at him. "It is your decision, of course. But you keep what I've said in mind, young man." _What? Young?_ "I'm older than you know, Master Logain. Believe me, I know what I'm about."

 _Older than - ?_ Startled, Logain studied her. Her weather-beaten face was scoured with wrinkles, and the skin around her neck was loose with age. But the wisdom in her eyes...how had he not seen it? "You're a channeler," he managed. "Aren't you?"

Nessa regarded him steadily. "Yes. I _was_ an Accepted, once. I failed my test to become Aes Sedai. I had wanted to become a Yellow, but I did not have...a suitable temperament for the shawl. I was very bitter about it, for longer than I care to admit. But I still had an aptitude for Healing, it seemed, so I devoted my life to helping people in other ways. My husband...he was a wreck when I met him. Much like you, proud and stubborn and convinced that the world was out to get him because he was a man who could channel." She scoffed. "I taught him a few things, and he straightened out eventually. He is happy, now." Her sharp gaze pierced him. "I have wanted the same for you, you know."

Logain stood. "Thank you, Nessa," he said quietly. "You are a good woman. And you have given me a lot to think about." He inclined his head to her in a rare show of respect. "I will speak to Maz - the M'Hael. But there are some things I need to know, before I...." His face took on an expression of determination. "I may be back late. I will get to the bottom of this." He embraced her quickly, then turned and strode from the room.

Nessa stared after him and prayed that she had not steered him wrong.

\---

Taim regarded the captive Aes Sedai coolly. They sat huddled together in their cell, all Ajah rivalries forgotten in their shared fear of him. The witches had killed some of his men, would have gladly seen him dead, and yet...did any of them deserve the fate he had in store for them? He didn't know, didn't want to think about it. He could not Turn Logain, not now - not after all they'd shared - but Moridin _would_ come to him soon, demanding results. Perhaps if he Turned enough of them, and the men, the Nae'blis would forget about Logain.... No. No, that was a fool notion. But if he made himself useful enough - made himself _indispensable_.... He turned to Mishraile, who stood in the shadows, white-faced and trembling.

"Fetch me Gedwyn, Rochaid, Torval, Cot - no, not Coteren. Fetch me the others." His gaze was hard. "We start today."

\---

Logain found Jahar Narishma behind the stables. The young Arafellin was practicing forbidden weaves, he noted with some amusement. The lad was strong; he would go far, if he lived long enough. His lips tightened. Light, he did not want to do what he knew he had to do. He cleared his throat.

Jahar glanced up and a grin spread across his face. _Light, he looks so young,_ Logain thought. _He's still an innocent. If only he could stay that way a little while longer...._ But innocence was something that none of them could afford; not now, not with Tarmon Gai'don looming. "Jahar," he said. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Lord Logain," the boy replied, his expression all open earnestness. Jahar clearly looked up to Logain, and trusted him absolutely. That made what he was about to ask even harder. 

"Maz - the M'Hael may be...up to something." An odd expression flashed across the boy's face, and he looked away. _Light, he knows something!_ "I don't know what, but I think it has to do with all of his strange absences. He and the Asha'man...." Logain drew a deep breath. "I need you to find out what they've been doing." He glanced away, uncomfortable under Jahar's slightly knowing gaze. "Something is bothering him," he said quietly. "And he won't confide in me. I may be able to help him, but only if I know what's going on." He met Jahar's eyes then. "This requires...discretion. I don't think that you would be in any danger, but...." He trailed off, stunned by what he'd just said. Did he really suspect _Mazrim?_ No, surely his uncertainty was just the result of exhaustion and anxiety about where they stood. Mazrim wouldn't be involved in anything dangerous...would he? Uneasily, Logain remembered the man's distress when they'd spoken earlier. 

"Lord Logain?"

Logain shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Will you do that for me, Jahar?"

The boy regarded him seriously, then gave him a sharp Asha'man salute. "Yes, Lord Logain," he said quietly. "I'll find out whatever I can." With one last glance over his shoulder at Logain, he took off in the direction of Taim's new...fortress.

 _What had Mazrim been trying to tell me?_ Logain thought. _Please let my instincts be wrong...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was quite short, so I'm posting this one now, too. :)


	13. Season's End

Jahar Narishma cast a quick, furtive glance 'round. He itched to channel, to draw on all the _saidin_ his slender frame could hold - anything at all to chase away the sensations of foreboding and gloom that gnawed at him. He stood what had to be near a mile beneath Taim's newest fortress. Here, the darkness was an almost tangible thing; the walls themselves seemed to hold their breath in dread, and the passage that yawned before him resembled a gaping maw, eagerly waiting to swallow him whole. Jahar shivered. Light, how he longed to reach for _saidin_. Surely just a trickle...but no. Taim's men would sense it the moment he channeled. And despite Logain's words, Jahar knew that he was in danger. Each soft, whispered step brought him closer and closer to...well, he didn't know what, exactly. But he feared it. 

Jahar had detested the M'Hael ever since he'd witnessed Taim disciplining one of the new Two Rivers recruits. Soldier Kellen had been caught sneaking down the corridor outside Taim's study late one night. Jahar happened to know for a fact that the young man had only been stealing away to meet with his lover, one of the Dedicated, but Taim...well, Taim had lashed out in a red-hot fury. The M'Hael was a barely contained inferno of rage and suspicion, and although he was a more than capable leader, Jahar could not like him. He'd been surprised, to say the least, when Lord Logain had taken up with Taim, but unlike the others, Jahar had considered it none of his business. What was it to him who shared whose pillow? He admired Logain a great deal, and even if he thought the man's taste was a bit...questionable, well, it wasn't his place to judge.

Then he'd overheard the conversation. Well, to be fair, Jahar didn't know quite _what_ he'd heard. What he _was_ sure of, however, was that Taim had murmured the words, "Yes, Great Master." _Great Master._ What sort of a man? woman? thing? could make the M'Hael speak with such deference? Jahar wasn't sure, but he knew that it could be no one good. And now Lord Logain suspected something....

"I wish he would just shut them up!" a whining voice declared from somewhere up ahead. Jahar drew back into the shadows. Not a second too soon, for at that moment, Gedwyn and Rochaid rounded the corner. Taim's Asha'man looked unusually drawn; Rochaid was even _sweating!_ Jahar flattened himself as best he could; the feel of the cold stone at his back made him wince, but he stayed silent. "I don't know why the M'Hael hasn't just knocked 'em unconscious already. And Mishraile! If I have to watch that idiot sick up one more time.... Light, why does the M'Hael keep him around, anyway? He's pathetic!" Rochaid sniggered. "Unless the M'Hael is sharing a pillow with Asha'man Mishraile, too!"

"Quiet," Gedwyn snapped back in a terse undertone. "It's none of your business. And in any case, the M'Hael's too busy being hung up on _Logain._ " The sneer in his voice made it abundantly clear what he thought of Logain Ablar. "Well, Logain won't trouble us much longer. You heard what Moridin said: if the M'Hael hasn't Turned Logain by the time he gets back, he'll...." His voice grew quiet suddenly, and though Jahar strained to hear, he couldn't make out the rest of Gedwyn's sentence. "In any case," the Asha'man went on in a more normal tone, straightening, "the M'Hael's a smart man. I believe the Nae'blis means to take him to Shayol Ghul any day now. No matter how much the M'Hael likes to dally with Ablar, he won't let anything interfere with his chance at ascension. Not Logain, not _anybody_."

 _Shayol Ghul?_ Jahar felt the icy fingers of dread clutch at his spine. He had no idea who this Moridin was, but if what Gedwyn was saying was true...Light! He had to get back to Lord Logain immediately! Carefully, he began to inch his way back along the passage. 

"Shh!" Rochaid hissed. Jahar froze. "Did you hear something?"

Both men fell silent, and Jahar held his breath. "No," Gedwyn replied at last. "It's nothing. Probably just one of the Turned." A look of faint unease and distaste crossed his face. "They're not _right_ after he Turns them, are they? They're not...they're not like _people_ anymore." He shook his head roughly, and then a cruel smirk twisted his thin lips upwards. "I can't imagine the M'Hael will enjoy sharing a pillow with Logain anymore once he's like _them._ "

A high, anguished wail pierced the air, causing all three men to flinch. "Ah, there it goes again," Rochaid muttered. "We should probably get back." He grimaced. "How many d'you think he'll make us Turn today?"

"I don't know," said Gedwyn thoughtfully. "He's already Turned two Aes Sedai and one soldier. They were easy enough, although I hear it'll be more difficult the stronger they are. Ones like Logain Ablar...they'll fight it." A sadistic leer lit up his face. "I bet it'll hurt."

Another scream, then a long, jangling sob. The two men glanced at each other, then hurried back in the direction from which they'd come.

Slowly, Jahar exhaled. He realized his hands were trembling. Light, this was worse than he'd thought! How was he supposed to tell Logain...?

\---

Logain was working on his sword forms in the practice yard - although Mazrim sneered at the idea of Haslin's lessons, he'd seemed to, ah...appreciate the sight of _Logain_ training - when he noticed Jahar crossing the lawn towards him. He began to wave a hand in greeting, then froze. The young Arafellin's face was drawn and haggard; he looked like he'd aged ten years in the past several hours! Logain glanced 'round, startled. The sun had already begun to set; how long had he been at this? Quickly fastening his sword in its scabbard, he strode over to Jahar.

"What is it?" Logain demanded roughly. "Are you hurt? What happened?" He realized his hands were clenched into fists, and he deliberately unfurled them. Light, he had to get a grip on himself! He stared at Jahar; the young man's face was twisted in almost tragic apprehension. 

"Lord Logain...." Jahar trailed off, looking utterly lost for words. 

"What? Out with it, lad!" Logain snapped. Immediately, he regretted his harsh tone as he took in Jahar's pale, distressed face. "I am sorry, Narishma," he said quietly. "But I need to know. Did...did you find anything?" _Please say no...._

Jahar reached out, placing a hesitant hand on Logain's arm. His dark eyes were full of sadness and...and pity. Logain's stomach sank. "I'm sorry, Logain," Jahar said quietly. His voice took on a business-like tone - merely a soldier reporting to his superior officer - but his gaze radiated compassion. "There are miles of tunnels beneath the M'Hael's new fortress," he stated. "I was perhaps a mile down when - when I came across Gedywn and Rochaid. They didn't see me," he added hastily, "but they were talking, and I was close enough to hear everything they said." He hesitated. "Logain...." His words came out in a rush. "Taim is serving the Shadow. He's using the Power, and somehow, he's forcing the Aes Sedai and even - even some of _us_ \- to Turn over to the Dark One. I believe he's answering directly to one of the - the Forsaken. And...I believe they mean to make him one of them, as well."

Logain shook his head up at Jahar - _up?_ He realized he'd fallen to his knees. "No," he said hoarsely. "No, that's...that's not possible. Mazrim wouldn't - he couldn't - his own men! Mazrim wouldn't _Turn his own men to the Shadow!_ " He realized he was shouting, all but gibbering, in his denial. 

Memories flashed into his head like knives, stabbing, thrusting, twisting. _"Logain. There's something I have to tell you. About me, and the Tower. I've been serving the Shadow...."_ Pain lashed at Logain as it all came flooding back. Blood and ashes! Mazrim had told him. He'd _told_ him! _"I've been ordered to Turn everyone to the Dark against their will. I was ordered to...to start with you."_

Numbly, Logain stared at the ground; it was a lot closer than he'd remembered. "Burn him," he whispered. He turned to stare up at Jahar - the lad's face seemed to be swimming miles above him - and said again, "Burn him! He tried to tell me, he tried, but...Light take him, he should have tried _harder!_ " His cheeks stung with cold. Numbly, he put a hand to his skin and realized that it was wet with tears. Jahar knelt beside him and placed a steadying hand on his arm.

"Logain...I want to give you more time," he said softly, "but the Black Tower is endangered. I need to know what you want me to do." He sighed. "Please don't do that; I'm trying to help."

Logain realized he'd drawn _saidin_ about him like a coat of armor. It was a raging torrent, all joy and blight and life and death and.... He took a deep breath and released it slowly. Pain settled over him in its place, and he nearly howled. Logain drew several long, shuddering breaths, and when he glanced up at Jahar again, his face was hard. 

"What I want you to do," he said in a voice of cold steel, "is to gather some men about you - as many as you feel you can trust. Have them come to me. Discreetly. We don't want to alarm the M'Hael's men."

Jahar saluted sharply. "Yes, Lord Logain." He hesitated. "What are you going to do?"

"Prepare for war," said Logain simply. "Go. We need to move fast."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have just made myself very sad.... I'm so sorry. LOL.
> 
> Note about the canon divergence: yeah, _saidin_ has not been cleansed yet in my version of events, for reasons. Also, it was originally meant to be Androl in this scene, since he's the one who was more involved with the Black Tower at this point, but I already felt like he hogged way too much of the limelight in the series, so. XD


	14. Far from Never

_Turn him, and live. Turn him, or die._ Moridin's words echoed in his head, slamming about his skull with the ferocity of a Trolloc's attack. Taim buried his face in his hands, shaking. The Nae'blis had arrived near the end of the last Turning, just in time to witness Taim's near-breakdown. He'd glanced around with an expression of utter scorn before ordering Asha'man Mishraile from the room. 

Taim winced at the memory. Moridin had not been gentle with the lad; Mishraile was likely still writhing in agony, wherever he'd run off to. The Nae'blis had been in a foul temper when he arrived, and he'd quickly become enraged at Logain's absence. Taim had had no warning; no _saidin_ had been woven, but Light, the _pain!_ When at last the torture ended, leaving him quaking, Moridin had calmly ordered him once more to Turn Logain - or die. 

"The Great Lord does not forgive failure, _M'Hael,_ " he'd said in glacial tones. "Remember, the dead belong to our Master. Fail him, and be sure that he will make you suffer for all eternity." His hand had snaked out to grasp Taim's arm like a vice. "Logain Ablar _will_ serve the Great Lord. If you do not Turn him, be sure that I will. And I will not be gentle. If you care for him, Taim, you would be wise to do it yourself. You have three days. When I return, I expect results." Then he'd Traveled away, leaving Taim weak and shuddering. 

Then, as if Moridin's visit had not been enough, Demandred had arrived in a rush of _saidin._ He'd been no more pleased with Taim than the Nae'blis had been. "You are a puppet," the Chosen had informed him coldly. "Do not think for a moment that you can defy me, _Mazrim._ I can throw you down as quickly as I have raised you." He'd delivered his orders, as calmly as though he'd been discussing the weather, before Traveling away as abruptly as he'd come. 

"No choice," Taim said aloud, feeling numb. "I have no choice." _Creator help me...._

Taim rose, drawing a long, steadying breath. By the time he found Mishraile - as expected, shaking and white-faced with residual agony - his face was a cold mask. If he had to Turn Logain - and it seemed he did - he would not be a pathetic weakling about it. Oh, he would make Moridin and Demandred and the bloody Dark One himself pay - one day - but first he would wring out every reward he could get for himself. And to do that, he had to be hard. He _would_ be. He'd been a fool, to think that one such as himself could afford to love. Well, he'd been roundly and thoroughly disabused of that notion. And now? Now he felt cold, empty. He'd hardened his heart, and there was nothing left inside of him - not fear, not sorrow, not love. There was only rage...but rage he could use.

"Find Logain," he snapped, and he could hear the razor-sharp edge of hatred in his voice. He _would_ hate Logain, he _would_ turn every ounce of fury he felt on the man who'd made him so weak, so vulnerable to hurt. "Take as much back-up as you need, but I want him brought to me. We begin at once."

\---

Logain had met with each and every one of the men Jahar had brought to him: Genhald, Kajima, and Dowtry, among others. All had been furious at the revelation of the M'Hael's betrayal, and all had been eager to follow Logain into battle against Mazrim and his men. He himself had experienced the rush of bloodlust that always suffused him before a battle. But the moment the others had rushed off to obey his orders, all adrenaline abandoned him. Suddenly, Logain felt very old, and tired. He would go to war for the Black Tower, and for these men he'd come to regard as his family. But although he'd never admit it to anyone, he had no intentions of harming Mazrim. No, he would turn the bloody man back to the bloody Light as surely as his lover had Turned _his_ men to the Shadow. _Whether he wants it or not,_ Logain thought grimly. He loved Mazrim Taim; he supposed he had no choice but to admit it now. And because of that, he would _not_ lose him to the Shadow. He would not lose Mazrim the way he'd lost Greave.

It was war, indeed; just not the war his followers thought it was. This was a war for Mazrim's _soul_. And Logain would win this war, or die trying....

\---

"Lord Logain," said Asha'man Mishraile hesitantly, pausing on the threshold. Logain Ablar was staring at the wall with a determined expression on his face. Mishraile shivered. This was the look of a man prepared for battle. _Light, how much does he_ know _?_ "I...I have some concerns. About the M'Hael," he added. The only sign that Logain had heard him was a slight stiffening of his neck, barely perceptible even to one who was looking for it. "He's gone over to the Shadow," Mishraile whispered. "I tried to follow him for a time, but...but he's gone mad, Lord Logain. He's forcing men to join him, and I believe...I believe he means you harm." He drew a deep breath. "I want to help you."

Logain glanced up at him then. His eyes were practically burning with determination, and he regarded Mishraile with a piercing look. "Very well," he said at last. "I could use your knowledge." He hesitated. "How...how is he?"

Mishraile felt a small jolt of surprise. Light, Logain really did care for the M'Hael! He'd thought Logain only considered Taim a bedfellow; it was part of what had fueled his animosity towards the man: a belief that Logain Ablar was unworthy of the M'Hael's attentions. But the concern - and pain - in Logain's voice spoke volumes. "He's changed," Mishraile said at last. "Lord Logain...he is not the man you knew. He received a visit from - from Moridin." His voice caught a little at the remembered pain. "The Nae'blis," he clarified. "The Gr - the Dark One's most favored servant. I believe...I believe he may be Ishamael reborn." Logain said nothing, so he pressed on, "Since the Nae'blis left, the M'Hael has been...different. He's angry. So angry." Mishraile hesitated again. "He has turned his anger against you, Lord Logain."

The look Logain flashed at him then was a tempest of pure emotion. "Mazrim is a fool," he snapped harshly. "He is a fool, and I will deal with him as I must." He waved a hand. "Go. I need time to - to prepare." He turned away then, but not before Mishraile caught the look on his face. Logain did not mean to give up on the M'Hael, Mishraile realized sadly. Oh, he still did not like the man, and yet...even Logain Ablar did not deserve the fate that awaited him. "I am sorry," he said to Logain's back. Then he drew _saidin._

\---

"GET OUT!" the M'Hael shouted. Asha'man Torval let out a whimper of pain and terror. He made a hasty salute and prayed that Taim wouldn't cast that weave again; he didn't think he could bear the agony a second time. "Leave me."

Peral Torval scampered. The M'Hael seemed to have gone mad. Normally, his rage simmered beneath a surface of superlative calm. Peral had always admired that about him: the coolness, the sardonic mockery in his bearing: the M'Hael had acted the king. But something had changed; now Taim was a raging inferno, blazing a swath of destruction through all in his path. He was out of control. Over and over, Peral had heard him muttering the name "Ablar" in tones of red-hot fury. Whatever had happened between the two had unleashed a torrent of fiery hatred in the M'Hael. Peral almost pitied Logain. Almost.

At that moment, a gateway opened, mere inches from him. Peral yelped and scrambled back. He darted a furious glare at Mishraile, but the pretty youth didn't even look at him; he held _saidin_ fiercely, and the Power held Logain Ablar. Logain was unconscious. Light, how had Mishraile managed to overpower him? The man was as strong as the M'Hael, perhaps stronger!

"Help me," Mishraile snapped. Droplets of sweat beaded his forehead; all his concentration was trained on the unconscious giant of a man hovering behind him.

Peral hastily channeled, adding his strength to Mishraile's. With a great deal of strain and effort, the two managed to get Logain to the dungeons. Roughly, Peral released the Power, sending the large nobleman crashing to the cold stone floor. Mishraile winced a little, and Peral looked at him sharply. The fop had better not get sick again; he had no intentions of cleaning up after him a _third_ time.

"I'll go...go tell the M'Hael we have him," Mishraile said tiredly. He looked none too pleased at the prospect, and Peral didn't blame him. The way the M'Hael was now, he had no desire to be the one to inform him of Logain's...arrival. "Post guards to shield him. If he escapes...." He trailed off, but Peral nodded mutely in understanding. If Logain Ablar somehow escaped, he knew their lives were both forfeit. Whether it was the taint or...or something else, their leader was no longer in control of himself. Peral feared the man might destroy the world before Tarmon Gai'don even arrived. He resisted the urge to run, to put as much distance as he could between the Black Tower and himself. There was nowhere to run, he realized with a sinking sensation. Whatever he'd gotten himself into, he was committed now, for better or for ill....

\---

"We have him." _Have him. We have him._ The words reverberated throughout Taim's skull, taunting him. A nearby rock exploded in an eruption of _saidin._ At this rate, he was likely to burn himself out, but he couldn't even bring himself to care. He felt nothing - nothing but this raw, consuming anger. He hated Moridin, hated Demandred, hated _himself._ And all he could do to maintain his tenuous grip on sanity was to turn all of that rage against Logain. Logain, the only person he'd ever....

Taim strode down the hallway towards the dungeons. He didn't want this...but what he wanted didn't matter. His choices weren't his own. His life hadn't been his own since the moment he pledged his allegiance to the Great Lord.

He found Torval and Kisman standing guard outside the cell. "Out," he snapped. The two exchanged a glance and then rushed away as fast as their pathetic legs would carry them. The terror in their gazes made him furious. Fury. Yes, he needed that. 

Taim took a deep breath. Then, steeling himself, he took a step into Logain's cell. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was so cold, so dank; gloom permeated the air, enough to suffocate. His gaze settled on Logain. The man was in a wretched state; he looked glazed, and.... Taim frowned. Ah, yes. They'd given him the forkroot. He grimaced a little. He knew he wouldn't be able to Turn Logain until the herb wore off. Why had he ordered this again? He shook his head.

At that moment, Logain's eyes fluttered open. His gaze darted about, taking in his surroundings with one sharp sweep...and then he saw Taim. His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. The look of betrayal on his face could rip one's soul to shreds. But Taim didn't have a soul.

"Lo - Ablar," Taim said at last. His voice was calm, cool. Good. He went on, "You have been given forkroot, but it will wear off, in time." He hesitated a moment. Logain's face had become a mask. There was no expression there; he looked as emotionless as Taim felt. "When it does, the Turning will commence." Still Logain did not move; he didn't even blink, just regarded Taim in cold silence. "I...regret that it has come to this. I had not - I tried...." He shrugged. A wry, slightly deprecating half-smile twisted his lips, and he spread his hands. "I suppose the world isn't large enough for the two of us after all." _Burn him, why won't he_ say _something?_ "Rest. Someone will come for you soon."

A wave of crushing grief crashed over him then, and he turned away, lest Logain see the weakness on his face. No. He was through feeling weak. Once Logain was Turned, there'd be no more uncertainty, no more pain...no more love. There'd be nothing left of the man to love anymore. The Turned weren't human; they were husks of the people they once were. Useless, except as fodder. Taim envied them.

"Taim," Logain said suddenly. Surprised, Taim turned to look at him. _Taim again. So this is how it will be._ He raised a mocking eyebrow and waited. "You won't take them all. They're good men; they'll fight for what's theirs. I had wanted to save you, Taim," he went on with a bitter chuckle, "but if you Turn even one more of them...." He didn't finish his sentence, but the look on his face said it all: it was hard, implacable. Logain would kill Taim if he could, to protect his fellow channelers. Taim felt his resolve harden again. He didn't want this, had never wanted this! Surely Logain must know that. The blasted man couldn't even make an effort to understand what Taim was going through! Perhaps he'd never truly cared for him at all!

"I will see you later. When it's time," he said coldly. Then, abruptly, he waved a hand and the cell door flung open with a piercing shriek of rusted metal. "Goodbye, Logain." Before the other man could say a word, Taim Traveled away.

\---

Logain stared after him. For a moment, when Mazrim had appeared in his cell, he'd hated him, had wanted to tear him limb from limb for what he was doing to Logain, to all of them. The M'Hael had been so _cold_ , like a man carved from ice; it had seemed that the Mazrim he knew was gone forever. But right before he'd Traveled away to Light knew where, a strange look had crossed Mazrim's face: it was a grief that transcended thought. It had lasted only an instant, but it was enough. Mazrim didn't want this; it was tearing him to shreds.

_It's like he's drowning_ , Logain realized. It was a look he knew all too well; after his capture and gentling, his own face had borne the same bleak cast. It was the expression of a man who wanted to die.

_I_ will _get him back_ , Logain vowed. _I will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er...again, I am so sorry. I'll help them out soon, I promise!
> 
> I've been very influenced by Tedronai, it seems. I never tortured my characters quite this badly before I discovered Tedronai's End of an Age story. It utterly shattered my heart when Elan betrayed Barid. :( Well, it seems I'm doing the same thing to poor Logain and Mazrim now....
> 
> I have been working on several other stories, so I'm going to post one of my happier ones later this week. Hopefully that'll help to balance this out!


	15. King of Pain

It was time.

"Bring him," Taim ordered tersely. He turned his back as Coteren rushed to obey. _Time. It was time...._ The forkroot would have worn off by now. Moridin's female channelers had arrived at last and were waiting for him with some impatience in the Turning chamber. He could not contain a slight sneer of contempt at the thought. Not only were they Aes Sedai - they were Black Ajah! It was reprehensible. It galled Taim to no end that he would have to work beside these women. And they didn't even seem to fear him the way others of their kind did! No, these Aes Sedai carried themselves with cold arrogance, and it was all he could do not to channel the witches into oblivion. He drew a deep breath. In the past hour, he'd made dozens upon dozens of excuses to delay the Turning: they had to wait for the forkroot's effects to fade, the women had not yet arrived, the Light-forsaken chamber had not been properly cleaned after the last, rather messy Turning. But now all those excuses had been exhausted, and there was nothing more Taim could do to delay the inevitable. 

He heard footsteps, but he didn't turn around. Foolishly, he thought that if he simply didn't look at Logain, the end couldn't come. _I can't Turn him if I don't see him,_ Taim thought wildly. But Moridin was due to return later that evening; there could be no more delays. Slowly, reluctantly, he pivoted and strode into the Turning chamber. Coteren had laid Logain down on the cold stone slab in the center of the room. The man was shielded, unable to move, but his dark gaze was avid on Taim's face. Strangely, Taim felt a rush of fierce pride at his erstwhile lover's composure. He had to be petrified - even more so because of his past experiences in captivity - but he met the M'Hael's scrutiny with a hard stare of defiance. 

Taim looked away. The more Logain fought the process, the more painful it would be for him. But he knew that the man wouldn't give in, any more than he himself would in this position. It was going to be a long night. 

"Well?" one of the women snapped. "Are you ready _now?_ "

The M'Hael's black orbs blazed at her, and she subsided. But she could not quite veil the mockery in her gaze. _Light, does everyone know?_ he wondered. Shadows moved at the corners of his vision: the Myrddraal. A chill ratcheted up and down his spine.

Taim met each of his channelers' eyes in turn. "We will begin."

\---

For several long, excruciating moments, nothing happened. Logain kept his gaze trained on Mazrim; he would not look at the Fades, would not allow himself to show any weakness before these Darkfriends. Darkfriends...Darkfriends like Mazrim. Logain's chest clenched, and suddenly he felt as though he was suffocating. Images and sensations crashed over him, brutal, unrelenting. In his mind, he saw the Aes Sedai Reds looming over him, felt the gnawing edges of fear when he realized he couldn't touch the Source. He'd experienced these flashbacks before, usually in times of extreme stress. Extreme stress.... The thought almost made him laugh. Then he was falling, tumbling end over end, out of control. He grasped frantically for something - anything - to slow his descent. There was nothing. He had...nothing.

Unable to help himself, Logain screamed.

\---

The M'Hael nearly turned away. He couldn't watch this, couldn't listen to this. Whatever was happening in Logain's mind seemed to have undone him completely. The regal, proud man he'd come to know was screaming in mortal pain and terror. All Taim wanted was to go to him, to comfort him. But he could feel the others' eyes on him, coldly assessing. Like a pack of wild dogs, they watched, searching his face for any weaknesses they could exploit. If he showed doubt now, they'd be on him in a heartbeat. Taim forced himself to watch, unflinching. He would _not_ give in. He'd committed himself to this action, no matter how reluctantly, and to refuse to watch now would be cowardice. He couldn't end Logain's pain, but he could - and would - stand by him without cowering. Silently, he willed Logain to sense his presence, and to take comfort from it. Light, but he wished he had the other man's courage.

What felt like Ages passed, and still Logain screamed. Twice, then thrice, Taim held up a hand. Each time, Mishraile brought a goblet to Logain's lips with trembling fingers, and each time, Logain spat the water back in his face. Even now, delirious with pain and trapped within his own mind, Logain Ablar refused to yield. Taim stared helplessly, feeling more than ever the crushing weight of his own inadequacy. If he'd possessed even an iota of the other man's strength, maybe this wouldn't be happening.

Coolly, in a voice that sounded more like a stranger's than his own, Taim ordered, "Continue."

Logain screamed.

\---

The others had begun to grow restless. This process had gone on for hours, and still Logain Ablar showed no signs of breaking. How was he able to withstand the torture? Mishraile wondered. The other captives had broken almost immediately. Well, the last one had fought it, he amended silently. Mishraile had breathed a sigh of relief when the man succumbed at last; though his eyes had glazed over 'til he looked like one of the Nae'blis' _zomara,_ at least the pain had stopped. Logain, on the other hand....

Unable to help himself, Mishraile glanced over at the M'Hael. The man's face was hard; he looked so much like Demandred in that moment. Mishraile had always thought the Forsa - _no, the Chosen_ \- to be a man of ice and stone, and Taim one of fire and metal. But the Taim who stared now at Logain's wan, still form without blinking was not the Taim he knew. That Taim was dead; there was only M'Hael.

\---

"Enough," the M'Hael said at last. He glanced around at the others with some surprise; he'd all but forgotten they were there. Exhaustion had leeched their faces of color; the women were trembling, and some of his Asha'man as well. Only the Myrddraal stood unmoved. "We shall resume at dawn tomorrow. He will not break tonight."

Gedwyn took a step forward. "But M'Hael," he said hesitantly. "The Nae'blis...."

"I CARE NOTHING FOR MORIDIN!" the M'Hael roared. He knew the others were staring, but he didn't care. "Logain will not break now; there is nothing more that can be done. Leave, if you fear Moridin's wrath so much!"

No one moved. At last, Taim snapped, "Take him back to the cell."

\---

He was not a man. He was Pain.

He thought he was being moved, but he didn't care. Pain didn't care. Pain was not aware. Pain was nothing. _He_ was nothing.

Pain, the man who had once been Logain Ablar, drifted. Only one thing kept him tethered to his body, reminded him of the man he'd once been: Taim. The name taunted him, circling his mind relentlessly like a vulture. Taim. _Taim._

Hatred surged through him, and for a moment, the Pain subsided. _Taim._ Yes, that was it. That name, that accursed name. It was hatred, it was strength. Most of all, it _wasn't_ Pain. Logain focused on it with all his might.

"Taim." He spat the name like the vilest of curses. "Taim...." Then everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry! I take it back; I don't want to be Semirhage anymore! LOL. I'm so stressed out right now. On the plus side, the next chapter is written and ready for publication. Things are about to get a bit better for Logrim, I promise! I've decided to post chapter sixteen later today, because this is all just too intense.


	16. Burns

Moridin waited.

For near an hour, he'd berated Taim, lashing out with the True Power until the M'Hael had collapsed to his knees, white-faced and shaking. Then he'd Traveled away, leaving the man to regain his composure. M'Hael would recover quickly, he was sure; Taim had always possessed an impressive ability to master himself. Or at least to give the appearance of mastering himself. It had nothing to do with any sort of inner strength on Taim's part, Moridin knew; oh, no. Everything came down to pride with Taim. Pride...and vanity. Moridin chuckled without amusement. Vanity. It seemed so...so quaint, somehow. 

He stared into the darkness, brooding. Once, he had reveled in the night, taken pleasure in others' unease. Now, he felt...nothing. Even his torture of M'Hael had been half-hearted at best; he just hadn't felt like punishing him. 

Moridin stared thoughtfully at nothing. He had orders to take Taim to Shayol Ghul. Originally, the task had been assigned to Demandred, but...well, that man had proven himself to be as unreliable as Taim. Until recently, Moridin had been sure he'd known Demandred down to his very soul; Barid Bel Medar had been the dearest friend of Elan Morin Tedronai, once. In their Age, Barid had been a good man, if somewhat impetuous and hot-headed. Then envy and hatred of Lews Therin had twisted his mind, hardened him, made him cold. The man once known as Elan Morin had mourned him when he fell. 

Moridin shook his head. For Ages, Barid had been almost comically predictable. All that had mattered to him was his revenge, and it had made him easy to control. Now, though.... 

Demandred's time in Shara had changed him somehow. Moridin hadn't believed it when his spies had brought him the news. Barid Bel, in love? The thought was ludicrous. Even the woman he'd once professed to adore with all his heart, Ilyena Sunhair, had been nothing more than a prize to Barid: she was the woman his hated rival had wanted. Oh, Barid had had plenty of relationships, if relationships they could be called. But in truth, he'd been closer to Elan than to any of the women he'd dallied with. This Sharan, this _Shendla,_ had wormed her way into his heart, ensnared him utterly. Moridin had gone to Shara himself and watched, unseen, from the shadows. Bao the Wyld, as Demandred called himself now, had promised to protect the woman and her people. The earnestness in his voice then.... 

Somehow, this primitive Sharan woman had re-awakened Barid Bel. It almost made him sad. That his old friend had found a part of himself again, a part untouched by bitterness and resentment, so close to the end....

And it seemed M'Hael was more like Barid than he'd originally thought.

Oh, Moridin had been concerned when Taim had let himself become involved with Logain Ablar. Any attachment was a weakness, and could not be tolerated in a servant of the Great Lord - especially one who was soon to be Chosen. But Moridin had let it happen. That decision had had more to do with simple curiosity on his part than anything else. Very little surprised him anymore, after all his Ages of life, but this...this had been unexpected. In some ways, almost as unexpected as Demandred's near-defection. Now, it seemed, the Nae'blis had a situation. Of course, it could still be rectified. And yet....

He'd give M'Hael another hour to regain control of himself. But after that.... Moridin stared up at the sky, at the myriad stars swirling far above him. It was so achingly beautiful. And meaningless. He laughed. At last, the man who had been Elan Morin Tedronai would get his end.

\---

Narishma crouched, inching his way along the cold stone wall towards Logain's cell. His heart sank when he saw the man. Logain Ablar lay curled in a fetal position, rocking back and forth and muttering feverishly under his breath. Light! He'd be no help in escaping at all! Glancing back over his shoulder at Androl, he shook his head. The older man's face held determination, he saw, but very little hope. 

"Taim." Logain's voice came out as only a whispered croak, but it was laced with more venom than Narishma had ever heard from him. "Taim. _Taim._ "

"Now what?" Androl whispered anxiously. "He's gone mad!"

"He'll be all right, once we get him out of here," Jahar muttered back in a low voice, though he knew nothing of the sort. Quietly, carefully, he inched the door open a crack. To his relief, it clicked opened without protest. Light, he wished he could channel! But use of the Power would draw Taim's men to them like moths to a flame. And they'd all be burned to ash.

"YOU!" came a sudden shout from behind them.

Jahar whirled around as a surge of _saidin_ took his breath away. He fell to his knees beside Androl, who lay there twitching on the stone. Raefar Kisman loomed over them, an ugly expression darkening his shrew-like features. 

"Well, what do we have here?" he sneered. "More fodder for Turning? The M'Hael will be pleased. I - "

Desperately, Jahar channeled with all his might, wrenching at the shield. Kisman's eyes widened. In a panic, he lashed out. A wave of agony crashed over Jahar, and he gritted his teeth. No, this couldn't be the end! Not now! Pain seized him, twisting.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the torture stopped. Jahar slumped forward with a gasp.

Kisman lay crumpled on the ground. The M'Hael himself stood there, towering over them all. Light, he'd knocked Asha'man Kisman unconscious! Jahar felt the M'Hael draw down a torrent of _saidin,_ and he knew they had lost; the M'Hael was just too strong.

"Go."

Jahar blinked, unsure he'd heard correctly. The M'Hael was regarding them with a strange expression on his face. He glanced down at Logain, who was still muttering feverishly under his breath. Taim's lips tightened.

"Go!" the M'Hael snapped. His eyes darkened with frustration at the sight of the wheezing Androl. "Get up, Genhald." His eyes returned to Narishma's. Clearly, he did not consider Androl worthy of his time. "Take him, and go. As fast as you can. Find the Lord Dragon. Tell him...tell him everything. Tarmon Gai'don is about to begin." No one moved. "GO! Before I change my mind."

Jahar and Androl hoisted Logain up, staggering at the weight. Taim stared at Logain for a long moment, then glanced away. "I will not be able to help you again," he said softly. "After this, I doubt I will live to see the morning." Strangely, the thought didn't seem to faze him. "Now go!"

They went.

\---

_Light, what have I done?_

Taim stared down at the unconscious Kisman. The Nae'blis would kill him. Slowly, he was sure. There could be no forgiveness for what he had just done. He found he welcomed it. At least in death there would be no more pain. His face tightened. He wished he could be with Logain when it all ended. But he didn't deserve the other man's comfort, not after what he had done. He'd seen the hatred on Logain's face. Oh, the man had been delirious, unaware of where he was or what was happening, but the rage with which he'd repeated Taim's name.... 

Taim straightened. No, he would not survive this night. But he intended to take the Nae'blis with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original was so much darker, and the Turning scene more prolonged, but I just couldn't bring myself to post it! I love Logain and Mazrim too much. XD 
> 
> The Elan/Barid friendship was strongly influenced by Tedronai's End of an Age series; I loved their dynamic so much, I pretty much consider it to be canon at this point.
> 
> Thanks so much for all your feedback! Hopefully this chapter made everything less excruciating!


	17. I Bring the Darkness (End of Days)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erm...okay. So, warning: this is very dark, and psychologically intense and disturbing. Myrddraal tits, I really am Semirhage! Readers, Logain...I'm so sorry! Um, yeah. I promise that things will get better, though!

"Taim." _Taim Taim Taim_....

The hated mantra whirled about his head like the turning of the Wheel itself. Every time Pain took him, seizing and wrenching without mercy, it was only that name - that hated hated name - that kept Logain clutching on to himself. Nothing else mattered; nothing but Taim had ever mattered.

"Taim...."

\---

"Taim...."

Jahar and Androl exchanged helpless glances. For hours, their leader had tossed and turned in a frenzy. They'd tried to Heal him, but it seemed as though his mind and body were...resisting, somehow. Something else had taken hold of Logain Ablar. And that something else had a name: Taim. He'd said nothing else since they got him back to his home.

"Any change?" Nessa asked quietly, coming up beside the men. Her face was etched in uncharacteristic anxiety as she stared down at the man who lay thrashing about the bed.

Jahar shook his head. "No," he replied, and every line of his body exuded exhaustion. "No change. He's been like this for...." He trailed off helplessly. "I don't know what to do for him, Nessa. His mind's broken; I don't think he's aware of anything." _Anything except Taim_ , he thought, but he didn't utter the words aloud. "But we can't stay here; his men could be on us at any moment."

"We can't leave," Androl broke in abruptly, and they all turned to stare at him. His normally calm, square face was haggard. "Gateways are blocked. I can't get us out."

"Blood and ashes!" Jahar erupted. Androl's heavy eyebrows shot up in surprise; the lad had never cursed like that before. Jahar glanced down at Logain with a look of near-tragic concern on his youthful face.

"Taim," Logain muttered. Even half-conscious, his tone was suffused with venom. "Taim...."

Androl drew a deep breath. "I think I have an idea." His eyes snared Nessa's. "But I'll need your help."

\---

"You did _what?_ " the Nae'blis spat.

Taim met Moridin's gaze without blinking. He was a dead man, he knew. Strangely, the thought didn't bother him. If anything, oblivion seemed like a welcome embrace. He said as much, then closed his eyes, expecting an eruption of rage - a moment of searing agony, then...nothing. Several moments passed. Why was he still breathing? Surprised, Taim glanced up at Moridin...and froze. The handsome man was regarding him with an expression Taim had never seen from him before. It took him a moment, and then he realized: it was a look of _understanding_. Dimly, he was aware that his jaw had dropped, but he was too stunned to do anything about it.

At last, Moridin broke the silence. "Oblivion...." There was an almost...wistful note to his voice. His eyes - so blue, and swirling with _saa_ \- snared Taim's without blinking. "The others do not understand. They are fools. Blinded with ambition, they think to rule the world." Those startling cerulean orbs nearly blazed with contempt. "But that is not the Great Lord's way." He laughed then, a deranged, almost hysterical peal; it contained no mirth, and Taim shivered in spite of himself. "I will not kill you, Taim," he said suddenly. "The end is nigh; there is no need, not now. Go; do what you will." Weariness seemed to settle on him like a shadowy cloak. He spun then, and Taim took an instinctive step back. "You will stay out of my way." A sharp edge of command had entered the Nae'blis' voice. "I had thought to use you, Taim, but I see you are just like Barid." He paused. "It is no matter. It seems you have provided me with a solution, Taim, however unintentionally." Moridin regarded Taim in silence for a moment. Then, "Logain Ablar is closer to the Shadow than you know, Taim. You will not help me, but I am certain now that he will."

Taim felt his vision go black, then red. "Stay away from him," he snarled, all caution forgotten. "Logain would never serve the Shadow." He wouldn't. He _couldn't_. But the hatred on his face, the cold bitterness in his voice.... 

"You will not interfere," Moridin said calmly. "It is done." With a rending of air, he Traveled away with the True Power, leaving Taim alone.

An overwhelming crush of despair enveloped him then. What could he do? He was no match for the Nae'blis; he knew that with cold certainty. Taim's gaze settled on the stone slab where, mere hours ago, Logain had lain. His lips tightened; his back straightened. He would _not_ let Logain fall into Shadow. 

Taim released the ward he'd set to block gateways out of the Tower. Then he Traveled.

\---

Fire. Searing, burning Pain.

Flashes of memory assaulted Logain: women, draped all in red, looming over him; the True Source, blocked. Panic, a feeling of suspension...and then emptiness. Despair. _Pain._ His vision swirled, and suddenly there were more women - different women, but they too were shielding him from the Power - and terrible, eyeless faces. Men garbed in black like shadow. And Taim. Always Taim. He'd watched as though carved from stone; a statue, not a living, breathing man at all. Black, slanted eyes just...watching.

Logain thought he screamed.

And then, suddenly, it ended. Lucidity returned to him, so abruptly it hurt. He let out a harsh grunt and nearly doubled over. He let his eyes travel about the room. Black and crimson.... Where was he? He had not been here before, he was sure.

"Do you like it?"

Logain whirled. There was a man standing there, resting casually against the fireplace. His eyes...his eyes seemed to be swirling with pitch-dark specks. His expression was bland, but he studied Logain avidly, as though looking at a particularly fascinating puzzle. For a moment, those eyes - those terrible, disconcerting eyes - seemed to blaze. Logain took a step back.

"You were helpless," the man said casually. "As powerless as a Seanchan damane." Rage surged through Logain. Who _was_ this man, to speak to him so indifferently of his torment? Without thinking, he lashed out with a surge of _saidin._

To his shock, the weave did not touch the man; it glanced away, as though from a shield. Logain eyed the stranger warily. There'd been no rush of Power from him; he hadn't channeled. "Who are you?" he demanded. A torrent of violent, lashing hatred cascaded over him, and he nearly shook with it. 

The man smiled. "I have been known by many names," he said carelessly. "But you may call me Moridin."

Moridin.... Where had Logain heard that name? Then it hit him. Moridin, the man _Taim_ served. The Forsaken. Ishamael, Mishraile had said. Logain knew he should be afraid, but all he felt was rage. Blinding, consuming rage. Without thinking, he drew _saidin_ and hurled another weave at the man.

Again, Moridin brushed it off as carelessly as one might swat at a troublesome gnat. Oddly, he seemed...pleased. "You do not need to be helpless, Logain. You possess more Power than you know; you may well be the strongest man of your Age. Aside from Lews Therin, of course." He shook his head dismissively. Logain's jaw clenched; the Forsaken's careless attitude infuriated him. "A man of your abilities should not be forced to kneel. You once declared yourself the Dragon Reborn; you have always known you were destined for greatness." Moridin met Logain's wrathful glare without blinking. His lips quirked upwards slightly in what seemed to be amusement. "You were not born to be subservient."

Logain's hands clenched at his sides, and the Forsaken went on, "The Great Lord can give you power beyond your wildest imaginings. You do not need to do much, you know; it is not as bad as you may think. All I need is for you to command the Dreadlords." He paused. "Mazrim Taim's Dreadlords."

At the mere mention of Taim's name, Logain lashed out. One of the nearby chairs splintered to bits.

"He failed," Moridin continued, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "He was weak. You, on the other hand...you might be a master of men. Think of the armies you could command, the Power you could wield. What man could harm you, what Aes Sedai control you, when you carry the Power of the Great Lord himself? Think on it, but do not take too long. Tarmon Gaidon is here, Logain. You could be forced to kneel at the Great Lord's feet like all these other pitiful wretches...or you could rule over them all." He eyed Logain up and down, then nodded as though pleased with what he saw. "If you decide to accept my offer, meet me at Polov Heights. You have until nightfall." 

Logain stared at the Forsaken, thoughts whirling. 

"You could make him pay, you know," Moridin added softly. "Think on it." Suddenly, the air around him _warped_ , and he vanished.

 _Make him pay. Make him pay...._ The room swirled about him. Then everything went black.

\---

Logain jolted upright in bed. " _Pay._ Make him pay."

Immediately, Nessa was at his side. "Master Logain!" A rush of fierce relief washed over her. "We had begun to think you wouldn't wake." She shoved a goblet of water at him, but he thrust it away. His eyes shot to hers, and the darkness in them made her flinch back. 

"Where. Is. He." His voice was flat, his gaze cold stone.

Nessa eyed him uncertainly. Had he run mad? "You don't remember?" she asked carefully. When he didn't say anything, she said, "The M'Hael...he let you escape. Jahar and Androl brought you back here." She expected his face to soften, but instead his mouth twisted with scorn.

"He's weak," he said coldly. "Taim does not deserve the power he's been given." He stood abruptly, ignoring Nessa's censuring gesture. "He is not worthy. I am." Before she could say a word to stop him, a gateway opened in the middle of the room. Without a backward glance, Logain strode through.

"M'Hael!"

Jahar and Androl burst into the room just in time to see the gateway wink shut. Jahar turned to Nessa in alarm. "What in the Light happened?" he whispered.

Nessa shut her eyes, willing her strength to return. "He has gone after Taim," she said quietly. "I fear he means to kill him." She looked up and met each of their gazes in turn. "I fear he means to kill them all. Logain has run mad; mad enough to break the world, I think." The others exchanged horrified stares. Under her breath, Nessa muttered, "Creator help us all."


	18. A Howling Wilderness, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I _had_ been planning to post a much longer chapter, but, um...well. TBH, it was making me too sad and I had to break it into two parts. This is all rather horrible, and I'm very sorry, but...part 1 isn't even the half that made me cry! That's all part 2. LOL. I need to edit that one a bit more before I'm emotionally ready to post it (if not today, then early tomorrow!).

Moridin waited.

Oh, he would come; of this the Nae'blis was certain. He'd seen the wild look of desperation in Logain's eyes: the look of a drowning man. A small, mirthless smile twisted the corners of Moridin's lips. Oh, yes, Logain Ablar was indeed one of the drowning. And the drowning, he knew, cared for nothing but their own wretched little lives.... 

The Nae'blis scanned the darkening horizon beyond the Heights without really seeing it; his eyes, swirling black on cerulean, stared pensively at nothing. _Even the most courageous man will drag another down to keep himself from sinking_ , he mused. And this man was _far_ from courageous. Oh, the former false Dragon had been formidable, once; why, even some of the Chosen had been unable to convert him to the Shadow! But this broken husk of a man was not the same one Demandred had approached in disguise, so very long ago. _This_ man was helpless as a babe. 

Beneath all Logain's rage roiled nothing but pain. Raw, animal _pain._ Strange, how human emotions worked; Moridin suspected that even Nemene could not engender such anguish in her victims. It seemed to be the culmination of a decade of isolation, loneliness, fear, and self-loathing. Male channelers of this Age really did lead the most violent, miserable lives; it had been so different, once.... Moridin stared at nothing. This pain Logain was experiencing now was made even more severe because it had, for a brief moment in time, abated. Funny, that a man like Taim had been able to draw him from his misery.... Well, now it had returned with a vengeance, made even the more agonizing for its temporary absence. 

Another might look at Logain and see a tempest of imminent destruction. Moridin looked at him and saw him for what he was: a man clinging to his last vestiges of sanity by a thread.

It was an expression he remembered all too well. Unbidden, images swam in front of his eyes, as dark and forbidding as the _saa._ A black-haired man, his handsome features contorted with envy, the sculpted planes of his face shadowed with bitterness. Barid Bel Medar had once been the living embodiment of erudition and refinement, but misery had warped him into someone else entirely. Only Elan had understood Barid's struggle. The others...they saw him as nothing more than a petty child, a brat throwing a tantrum. But Elan had known Barid Bel to the depths of his soul. 

"Bound throughout time," Moridin murmured aloud. He laughed then, a high, mad treble. He alone had always known the truth: that he and Lews Therin were bound to the Wheel, destined to battle each other - again and again and again - 'til the end of Time itself. And, just as surely, Moridin knew that he and Barid had always been connected. When his dearest friend had fallen from grace, the man once called Elan Morin Tedronai had felt his soul - what little remained of it - rent to shreds. It was on that day that the last vestiges of his humanity had fallen away. Barid...Barid had been the only thing tethering him to the man he'd once been. The Betrayer of Hope had exulted in the utter destruction of his humanity; but the part of him that was still Elan had wept before crumbling into dust.

And now? Now it was all playing out once more, this time through Mazrim Taim and Logain Ablar.... Again, Moridin laughed. He laughed and laughed, until tears streamed from his eyes and dusk turned to night. _The Wheel keeps turning. Turning, turning, always turning._ "But not for much longer...." His mad laughter began to sound more like a sob.

And then, with a sudden rush of _saidin_ , Logain was there. "Well?" he snapped. "I'm here. What would you have me do?'

Slowly, Moridin turned to face him. For an instant, it was not Logain he saw looking back at him. Then the image faded. He glanced away, far across the Heights. Night had fallen. "Come," he said at last. "I will take you to your army."

\---

"Where is he?" Taim demanded.

He stood in the center of Logain's room amidst the shattered skeletons of furniture. Narishma and Genhald held him shielded; their eyes seemed to stake him in place like daggers piercing him to the wall. Taim stood there calmly enough, but his stomach sank as his dark gaze swept about the room. _Light, what has Logain_ done _?_

"We ask the questions, traitor," Androl snapped angrily, and Jahar shot him a censuring look. The older man fell silent, but he continued to glower at Taim.

Jahar regarded the M'Hael with a long, searching stare. "We don't know," he replied at last. "Nessa says he woke up, raving like a man gone mad. We felt his channeling, and we rushed in just in time to see him disappear through a gateway. Nessa went with Darven to - " At Androl's significant cough, Jahar cut himself off. "We're doing all that we can," he finished at last.

"That's not enough!" Taim's voice cracked like a whip, and he saw them tense. He took a deep, steadying breath, willing himself to calmness. When he spoke again, his tone was softer. "I have to find him. Moridin said...." He took a deep breath, and met each of their eyes in turn. "Moridin believes he can convert Logain to the Shadow. Willingly."

Androl looked outraged. "Lord Logain would never serve the Shadow!" he declared vehemently. "He's not _you_ ," he added in tones of greatest scorn.

Jahar ignored him. Instead he kept his gaze trained on Taim. "Do you think there's a chance he'd succeed?"

A long silence. "I don't know," Taim bit out at last, looking away. His chest clenched painfully, and he grimaced. Light, it felt as though his lungs had ruptured; he couldn't seem to draw enough breath! Sweat broke out along his brow, but he forced himself to continue. "He's...not the same Logain he was. I...whatever I did, it broke something inside of him." The crushing weight of self-loathing threatened to wrench him to his knees. The look on Logain's face as they'd hauled him away.... "I no longer know what he might do."

He realized his eyes were wet, but he no longer cared what they thought of him; they couldn't possibly hate him more than he hated himself. "But I think I know where he's going. I...." Taim sighed. "This is something I need to do alone."

Androl opened his mouth to protest, but again Jahar shook his head at him. "What do you want us to do?" he asked Taim. "We can help; you know we can."

"Find the Lord Dragon," Taim said quietly. "Tarmon Gai'don's about to begin; he needs to know. Stay with him. Protect him."

Androl eyed him with suspicion. "And you?"

Taim snared the older man's gaze. "I'm going to the Heights," he answered simply. "I'm going to save Logain."


	19. A Howling Wilderness, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. So...this is the darkest thing I've ever written. 
> 
> In an interview, the master of horror Stephen King revealed how his best-selling Pet Sematary almost never saw the light of day. Upon re-reading his manuscript, King promptly stuffed it right into a drawer. He was revolted, and believed that in writing the story, he may have finally gone too far. 
> 
> Well. This chapter is my Pet Sematary. I am so appalled by what I've written, I don't even know what else to say. Frankly, I'm horrified by how dark this is, and I'm afraid of how my readers will react! Maybe you won't be as freaked out as I am (King also said in his interview that the majority of fans didn't find the book nearly as horrific as he did); I don't know. But if you are, I am very VERY sorry!

_I'm too late_ , Taim thought numbly. _It's begun...._

His dark-eyed gaze took in the bleak surroundings with very little hope. After several minutes' deliberation, Taim had decided to open his gateway a good distance down the Heights; and although the delay had sent jagged slashes of impatience ratcheting up and down his spine, he was now glad that he had. Merrilor was _swarming_. Battalions of soldiers - men, Trollocs, a myriad assortment of Shadowspawn, and some creatures he didn't even have a _name_ for - had fanned themselves across the Field. Already, several of the troops were engaged in violent skirmishes; others stood poised, awaiting their orders like the obedient fodder they were. All in all, it was a gruesome sight to behold; it put Dumai's Wells to shame. 

But it was not the _sight_ of all the grisly, bloody violence that threatened to overwhelm him; it was the _Power._ Taim could feel it in every nerve of his body: an onslaught of _saidin_ so strong, it nearly flattened him into the dirt. It slammed into him - over him, under him - in crushing waves until the sensory over-stimulation made him want to scream. Once, the feeling would have exhilarated him; now, he longed to be somewhere - _anywhere!_ \- else. Anywhere but here, in the midst of all this senseless bloodshed. 

And the worst of it was, Logain wasn't even here! Taim had looked for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Had he been wrong? Maybe Logain _hadn't_ joined forces with Moridin! For all Taim knew, the man was with Narishma, Genhald, and the bloody Lord Dragon right now! Or dead, he realized suddenly, and the thought almost decimated him. _If Logain's denied the Nae'blis...._ But no. No, Logain was here somewhere; Taim could _feel_ it! But _where?_

"Now what?" came a whispered voice at Taim's back.

Instinctively, he drew down a torrent of _saidin_ , enveloping himself with the Power as though it were a gleaming coat of armor. He whirled to face his attacker, a weave of Fire poised and ready to strike, and - 

"Narishma?" Taim snarled, thoroughly jarred. _Of all the impudent - !_ The young Arafellin said nothing, just stood there regarding Taim with an alert, questioning look in his dark brown eyes. Slowly, reluctantly, Taim released the Source. Light! What had the fool been thinking, sneaking up on him like that? He'd almost killed the lad! "What in the Pit of Doom are you doing here, Narishma?" he hissed. "Go back to Androl! Surely you cannot mean to leave that imbecile unattended for long!" At the youth's reproving look, Taim took a deep breath. No. No, he could not afford to lose his temper. Not now. Not before he'd found Logain.... Sighing, he gestured for the boy to stay low. 

Jahar came to a crouch beside him. "What do we do now?" he asked in a cautious undertone.

"We? _We_ do nothing," Taim responded sharply. "I told you to warn the Lord Dragon! Go to him, or go back to babysitting Androl, but whatever you do, stay out of my way, Narishma!" His slanted black eyes swept across the desolate terrain once more. _Where in the blazes_ is _he?_ Sighing, he turned back to the lad. "I...I have to get to Logain. Nothing else matters right now."

Jahar eyed him warily, at once looking uncertain. "M'Hael...." He swallowed visibly, then tried again. Taim's stomach sank at the look on the boy's face. "Logain's leading the Dreadlords," he muttered at last. "Your - your _Turned_ , and others. He's replaced you, M'Hael." 

Taim rocked back as though he'd been punched; Jahar's words had hit him like a blow to the gut. "Where - where is he?" he demanded hoarsely.

"Last I saw, he was preparing to send his Dreadlords against the Sharans," Jahar answered. A sudden weave of lightning slashed from the sky several feet away, and the screams of horses assaulted the air. 

"MOVE!" Taim hissed, gesturing sharply for Jahar to follow. The two men scrambled further down the Heights, away from the brutal eruptions of Power. Taim longed to reach for the Source himself, but he couldn't afford to draw attention to himself. Not yet. Not until he'd found Logain.

Taim and Jahar pressed themselves against a boulder some ways down, both of them drawing quick, shallow breaths. At last, the air around them stilled. They were safe. For now. Taim turned to stare at the Arafellin. "Send his Dreadlords against the Sharans?" he repeated. 

Jahar glanced sideways at Taim. "Yes," he said quietly. "You and Logain aren't the only turncoats, it seems." Taim flinched, but the boy went on, "I don't know how, or why, but...well, you know Demandred?" At the M'Hael's impatient nod, he said, "No one knows exactly what's going on, M'Hael, but we all saw Demandred and his army of Sharan channelers suddenly turn on the Trollocs." 

Taim stared. _Demandred?_ "What in the - ?"

He broke off mid-sentence. There, at the top of the Heights, stood Logain.

\---

 _There's a strange sort of beauty in it_ , Logain noted detachedly. _All this Power, concentrated in one place...._ It surprised him a little, that part of himself could still appreciate beauty. The scene before him was violent, desolate, and yet...there was something about it. The blazing surges of _saidin_ that rent the night possessed a sort of savage loveliness. And the Heights themselves.... The stark planes of the Heights reminded him of a face. A slanting-eyed, angular face. He felt a sudden, brutal stab of Pain, and he gritted his teeth. _No. Beauty is meaningless. All of this is...meaningless. But Power...Power will stay._ His back straightened, and he shed his anguish like a cloak. Oh, it sickened him to the depths of his soul to do, but he'd lead these accursed creatures of nightmare. And then...then no one would have the power to hurt him again. How could they? He'd become Power itself.

"Lord Logain."

Logain glanced behind him to regard Evin Vinchova. A small shudder of revulsion rippled through him at the sight of the Kandori lad. He was one of _them._ One of Taim's Turned. At once, everything around him seemed to reel. In his mind, he saw it all again: those cold, expressionless faces, the eyeless gazes of the Myrddraal...and Taim. Always Taim. Logain shut his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, his visage was impassive stone once more. "What is it, Vinchova?"

The boy didn't even blink. _Light, he's hardly human anymore_.... "He's here."

At that, Logain's head shot up, and a savage burst of energy seemed to suffuse him. "Leave me," he ordered. "Take all of the Dreadlords, and go. Rochaid knows what to do; he will lead you in my stead." Vinchova didn't argue; none of the Turned ever did. "I will face Taim alone. Now go."

A rush of _saidin_ , and then they were all gone. A look of grim satisfaction settled across Logain's features. Calmly, he turned, and his eyes settled on a large boulder halfway down the Heights. "Come out now, Taim. Come out and face me."

There was a long silence. Had Vinchova been mistaken, somehow? Maybe Taim wasn't here. Maybe....

Then, in one sinuous, graceful motion, Taim emerged from behind the rock. For a moment, Logain simply stared. Mazr - no, _Taim._ _Taim_ stood there calmly, his slanted black eyes steady on Logain. The man spread his hands slightly in his characteristic wry gesture, and Logain felt a vicious surge of fury. Red tinged his vision. Shaking with barely suppressed rage, he strode down the Heights towards Taim.

\---

 _Now what?_ Jahar, still hidden in the shadowy recesses behind the boulder, watched helplessly as the M'Hael rose to face Logain. It looked as though the other man had gone mad; whatever Taim had done to him during the Turning process had utterly shattered Logain Ablar. They may not have succeeded in Turning him, but he clearly was not the same man he'd once been. The Logain now striding towards Taim had been broken, and re-forged into...something else. Danger radiated from him, as palpable as that which had once surrounded the M'Hael. Jahar shivered. Androl would be wondering what had become of him. Guilt tugged at him then; what if something happened to Androl in his absence? The older man wasn't strong; he'd be helpless all on his own. _But what else can I do? I can't leave the M'Hael to face Logain like this!_

He chanced a look around the boulder, and saw that neither of the men were likely to notice him any time soon; they seemed to have forgotten that anything existed but the other. The M'Hael stood there calmly enough; only a slight tension in his shoulders revealed his anxiety. Logain, on the other hand.... His face was a mask of hatred.

"Logain," Taim acknowledged blandly. _Light, why does he have to sound so wry? Has he run mad as well? Can't he see the danger he's in?_ "You know, when I'd said that I would leave the Asha'man to you, this was not quite what I'd had in mind."

"Enough," Logain snarled.

Taim tilted his head to study the other man. "I must say, I never thought to see _you_ join the Shadow." He gave a slightly wry, self-deprecating laugh. "I rather thought you were a bit smarter than me in that regard."

"ENOUGH!" Logain's voice was a crack of thunder. He ground to a halt mere inches from the M'Hael. Jahar froze, afraid to breathe.

For a moment, Taim met Logain's hate-filled glare steadily. Then he glanced away, and went on more softly, "I didn't want this, you know. It was the last thing I wanted."

 _"Enough_ , Taim!" The raw anger in Logain's voice was tinged with an edge of desperation. Jahar thought he saw him hesitate. 

Slowly, Taim reached out to place a hand on Logain's arm, and the taller man went rigid. Jahar tensed, ready to draw _saidin_ in an instant.

"I am sorry, Logain," Taim went on quietly. "For what I did. I'm sorry. You're the last person in the world I wanted to hurt. I - "

Suddenly, without warning, Logain's hand whipped back. With a sickening thud, his fist connected with Taim's face, and the M'Hael staggered back. Jahar let out a ragged shout of alarm and he lurched to his feet. 

_I'm so sorry, Logain,_ Jahar thought, and reached for _saidin._ To his shock, he realized he couldn't touch the Source, couldn't even move! His mouth worked silently. Logain barely glanced at him; whatever weave he'd cast held Jahar frozen in Air, immobilized. He was helpless. He could do nothing. Nothing but watch.

\---

Taim touched a shocked hand to his cheek. Still reeling from the suddenness of the impact, his mind barely registered the pain. _He hit me. He actually_ hit _me._ Stunned, he stared up at Logain. The other man had reeled back. His face had gone white, and he was staring at his hands as though he'd never seen them before. Then his expression hardened. 

"Logain, I - "

"ENOUGH!"

The world exploded in pain, and Taim crumpled to his knees. Shocked, winded, he stared up at Logain through a haze of agony. That hadn't been _saidin._ The True Power. Logain had channeled the True Power.... _Light, how far gone_ is _he?_

Logain had rocked back as though he'd been the one struck. Shock, confusion, grief, rage - myriad emotions that Taim didn't even have a _name_ for - flickered across his face in an instant. For a moment, the sorrow in his eyes seemed to transcend thought. He raised his gaze to Taim's, and his expression was one of aching despair mingled with rage.

"Logain," Taim managed, grimacing at the pain. He struggled slowly to his feet. "I know you hate me. I - I don't blame you." He let out the barest chuckle, then winced at the residual agony of...of whatever Logain had done. "But this isn't - you're not - " He held Logain's gaze. "This isn't you, Logain."

"What would _you_ know?" Logain demanded harshly. "How could you possibly know? Do you have any idea what I've been through? _You_ were never gentled; you never had to endure that - that...." Inarticulate with fury, he growled low in his throat. Another wave of agony knocked Taim back, and he crumpled again to his knees with a grunt.

"What you're feeling...." Taim wheezed. "How do you think I felt, watching them try to Turn you? You think I wanted that? I don't have your courage, Logain. If I had...." He shook his head and winced at the movement. "Do you know how many times I've looked at you, thinking you're what _I_ might have been, had things unfolded differently? Now the table's turned. But we're the same, you and I; we always have been."

"I'm NOTHING like you!" Suddenly, Logain was on him, hammering him again and again with his fists. His strikes were brutal, unrelenting. Taim curled in on himself, throwing up his arms to cover his head, but there was no protecting himself from the other man's rage. The blows landed all over his body, pummeling him into the dirt until he couldn't draw breath. Searing-hot pain erupted across his face, and he thought he heard something crunch.

"WHY?" Logain was shouting. "After _everything_ we've been through?" Each word, he punctuated with another savage punch. Agony roiled through Taim until he couldn't tell where one blow ended and another began. His vision turned red, then white-hot, then began to blur around the edges. "After everything - _everything!_ \- you couldn't have - you didn't even - _WHY, Mazrim?_ You should have tried harder! You should have - "

What was Logain saying to him? His words didn't make any sense. Were they even words anymore? Taim didn't know. Through a haze of searing pain, his eyes sought Logain's. He thought the man was screaming at him - he could see Logain's lips moving - but he couldn't make it out. Why couldn't he hear? It all suddenly seemed very far away. Even the pain had receded into numbness. Was that good? That was good...wasn't it?

"Logain," he thought he said aloud. "Logain, I think...figured it out...."

As if from a great distance, Taim saw Logain's eyes widen in alarm. Dimly, he thought he should reassure him. Yes. Yes, that was a good idea. He opened his mouth to speak. At least he thought he did. And....

\---

Logain froze, his fist poised inches from the other man's face. He wasn't moving. Mazrim wasn't moving! Logain stared down at him in horror.

"Taim? Taim!" Mazrim's face was streaked with blood, and one eye was swollen nearly completely shut. "Taim! Mazrim!"

Logain began to shake the other man. He realized he was screaming and gibbering. He was on the edge of a precipice, he was falling, and there was nothing he could -

"He will die if you continue to shake him like that," came a voice blandly from behind him.

Logain started. Narishma...he'd almost forgotten about Narishma. But when he glanced over at the lad, the boy was still bound, his face frozen in silent horror. Then who...?

"Move aside." The voice was filled with the icy chill of command. Logain felt his knees turn to water. Slowly, knowing what he'd see, he turned.

The tall figure loomed over him, expression impassive. "Move aside. If you want him to live, move aside now."


End file.
